


Bedroom Eyes

by Cerfblanc



Category: Uncharted (Video Games)
Genre: 1980s, 1990s, Bittersweet, Drifting, Drugs, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Incest, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Incest, M/M, Original Character(s), Please pay attention to tags, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Notes, Teen Angst, Tragedy, Underage Prostitution, Underage Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-05
Updated: 2018-04-23
Packaged: 2018-09-06 17:35:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 60
Words: 73,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8762548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cerfblanc/pseuds/Cerfblanc
Summary: Finding himself getting lost into what feels like a make-believe world of possibilities, delusional nineteen year old Samuel Morgan, realises that he's fallen in love with a 'pure-minded' twelve year old boy, whom turns out to be his once chaste little brother, Nathan Drake.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I was originally planning on posting this fic quite some time ago, so uh…yeah here it is, I hope you guys enjoy it!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The character 'Ewan' is my Original Character in this fic.

_Sam_

_~_

"You got a light?"

I slipped one hand into my jean pocket, feeling a sudden gust of Spring wind hit the side of my body once I physically answered the stranger's question. I pulled out the old, marked and battered metal lighter I had been using for the past year and tossed it over to him from the small distance between us.

"Thanks." He uttered, the cigarette almost bending between his thin lips. As he cupped his hands to shield the orange glow of heat, his brows arched inwards as he finally got what he wanted — well, needed, if I thought about it a little more logically.

"You live around here?" I began, to break the breezy silence. He flicked his aged gaze up to meet my own, and seemed to reluctantly shake his head, a little hesitant at the same time to respond. He passed the lighter back.

"Nah." He uttered again, inhaling sharply. I let a little smile slide on to my face.

"You'll get rid of that one in a minute if you keep that up."

He smiled back. "I doubt a minute."

As the stranger forwarded to lean against the small, brick wall I was also leant against, we looked out across the grey scenery.

"Y'ever get the feelin' when you don't know what you're actually meant to be doing anymore?" He added. I sighed inwardly.

"I've been asking that myself for the past three years. I haven't made any progress."

The stranger spat at the ground, taking in another drag of his cigarette.

"You got a job?"

"Carwash."

"Ah."

"It wouldn't be my first choice."

He let out a dry, cracked kind of laugh at my statement.

"Course it wouldn't. Wouldn't to anybody." He took in another drag.

The grey scenery then seemed to move slightly — it moved with time and light. The early peak of the sun was now revealing itself across the clouded horizon; across the city. The park this stranger and I were standing in had always been plunged into a deathly silence that had the effect that it didn't seem abandoned. I mean, it wasn't abandoned, it was just that not many people decided to show up at this part of the town.

I went and came there because it was quiet. And it felt quiet.

It felt as if these sunken Spring days were slowly plummeting down onto my shoulders like heavy, dead lead.

As I turned my head to the only company I currently had, the stranger that I had been talking to for the last five minutes had vanished. All was left was the cigarette he had — that was stumped out onto the small wall.

-

It wasn't long before I met my encounter again, a week later at the same place and time. From the last time I'd seen him, he had cleaned up a bit. His face for instance.

"I never got your name." He began, pulling out another cigarette from the worn little box. He flicked his eyes over to mine.

"Sam." I responded.

"Ewan."

We were both silent after that, until another figure emerged into the park, weaving through the single bone-pale-leaved trees that stood like everlasting guardians.

Ewan whistled lowly at the sight, and I frowned softly at him, as if questioning.

"Well, I've never seen _this_ before." He said, bringing a hand to scratch at his cleanly cut stubble. I rolled my shoulders. The denim jacket I wore was beginning to feel like some sort of restraint that I was eager to take off, but the atmosphere was still a little bitter, even though it was heading into Spring.

"A kid?" I answered him. He turned his head in my direction, rolling his eyes and scoffed.

"I'm not that fuckin' stupid." He joked, looking back to the figure that we could now see much clearly — a young boy, no older than twelve wandered a fair distance away from us. He had something in his hands that he held close.

"Never seen a kid walking 'round these kinda places. It's a little strange." Ewan corrected himself. I gave a soft nod before looking back over to the boy. He was stood beside one of the trees, now.

"You…you don't think he's lost?" I asked. Ewan let out a cough.

"He looks lost. But he mightn't be."

"But still…"

"Be my guest, _ma'am_."

Ewan was right. Realistically I didn't need any more problems. Neither did he. We had both established that, and we had only known each other for a day. I had only known his name up until now.

_I didn't need a lost little boy on my mind—_

It was then I felt a soft tug on my jacket sleeve, the shuffle of small feet and the presence of a youth.

I looked down to see the kid.

"Can you help me?" He spoke quietly, his eyes fixated on me in particular. Ewan turned away to cough again. I swallowed, looking down at him again.

"With…what…?" I said. The boy then held up the object he had been holding.

"Can you lift me?"

In his delicate little hands was a Polaroid camera.

"…Lift?" I repeated to him. He gave a small nod.

"I wanna take a picture of that cat up there." He pointed over to the tree to our left, and if I squinted into the light mist, I could see the silhouette of a white cat perched on the biggest branch. It's tail swung slowly and smoothly back and forth, like a swing. Ewan was silent at this point with our conversation.

"I just need your shoulders." The boy said again. I blinked twice, in thought for a second, and realised I had no time to debate whether I should or shouldn't help this kid. But then again I didn't see any problem with helping him take a picture.

Glancing to Ewan who stood at my right, a new cigarette alight between his lips, he stared at me for that moment. Long and hard before raising his brows at me.

The boy didn't take his expression off me.

"It won't take long, either." He added to me.

I nodded, and responded in an inaudible tone. "Sure."

Something about the adolescent made my nerves twitch and scatter about in a weird sort of panic. It felt like I was doing the wrong to help him, to even be involved in a conversation with him.

But I shook it off, for now.

I wandered away with this unknown child, to the far left towards the tree and the white cat that seemed to wait like a predator for us — me, in my perspective.

As we walked, I discreetly studied the youngster.

I was probably three heads higher than him in height. His frame was immature and petite — maybe a little attractive and dainty for his age, whatever that was; it was highly likely he was quite young. Considering the way he spoke and the soft of his boyish voice.

He had a mop of hazel hair and a small quiff that almost covered one of his dark, warm eyes, contrasting quite well with his creamy skin. (Although they were incredibly faint) freckles appeared lightly upon his cheeks.

He wore a grey hoodie that looked as if it were a size too big for him, a pair of bleached-out denim jeans, a plain top of sorts and some worn red Converse.

_I guess I could call him kinda cute._

"Here."

I blinked myself out of my thoughts once I saw the tree and the white cat that still eyed me patiently. The kid looked at me again, his gaze still solidly fixated on mine.

A second later he then pushed the camera to my chest, muttering, 'Hold this' before making me kneel and clambering up onto my back and onto my shoulders. Once he was balanced I carefully stood up, and passed the camera back up to him.

I felt his knees brush against both sides of my jaw, making me swallow.

"Am I heavy?" He then asked out of the blue, and I felt him stretch up to where the cat was, his camera in hand.

"No, you're not…" I replied, almost in a daze. I heard the faint shutter of the Polaroid.

"Hey…uh…" My voice suddenly started again. He took another snapshot. "…how…how old are you…?"

"Young enough to get you in prison — that is, if you try anything on me."

I had to chuckle at this. He had the same sort of wit as me. "Nice. I'm nineteen."

"Twelve."

"You lost?"

_Sam, why did you ask that._

"No."

"Where do you live?"

_You're being fucking creepy._

"I don't wanna tell you that."

"Hey, it's just a question. I would say if I was dangerous."

It took him a moment to respond with confidence.

"I live thirteen blocks away from here."

"I'm only asking because I'm a little concerned, if you're thinking."

"Why would a nineteen year old be concerned about me?" He took another photo.

I gave a soft shrug. "I dunno."

"Don't you have better things to be thinking about?"

"Like what…?"

"Aren't you guys interested in women?"

I blinked a few times, realising what this twelve year old had just said.

"Well…some of us aren't."

"So you agree."

"Aren't you a little too young to be knowing this stuff?"

"No, not really. If I was, someone would've already taken advantage of me."

I hummed softly, mentally agreeing. I then felt a small hand touch the top of my head.

"Can you hold me?" He asked. I could feel him lean over me slightly, the flat of his meagre torso pressing against the back of my head.

"Um, sure." I murmured back and held onto his shins. He then stretched up again, this time further — considering the fact that the kid let out a few quiet noises of effort to whatever he was doing, and a minute later, he relaxed again.

His lean thighs tensed in that moment around my neck, and I swallowed at the indifferent feeling. My grasp on his shins stiffened ever so slightly.

"You can put me down."

I wasn't sure whether I was going to — _wanting_ to let this boy down from my shoulders or not. It felt as if I were getting some sort of satisfaction from having a kid up above me, giving me occasional little prods and timid asks of what else they were wanting me to do. I was sure I liked the feeling of it all. Heck, I could've said I loved it.

"Hold it."

I felt a soft jab at the nape of my neck, the satisfaction suddenly disappearing inside me once the boy held the camera back down at me.

I took it from him, then kneeling back down so he could clamber off my shoulders and slip down my back just as easily. He moved his gaze up to mine, his camera in one hand whilst he tucked the pictures in his back pocket.

"Thank you." He murmured gently. I gave a nod.

"Any time."

The Spring mist had began to settle in around the few trees, surrounding the two of us. The white cat had disappeared at this point.

_What was I meant to be doing again?_

I blinked.

_Oh, that's right, Ewan—_

"Your…your friend seems to have…left…"

"Wait _what?_ "

I took a couple of steps into the mild mist, the short cobbled wall coming into view as I peered closer to the grey scenery. The kid stood his ground.

Ewan had gone.

I let out a sigh, through my nose at the sight that felt almost too familiar to handle and rolled my eyes soon after. I turned back to him.

_Well, with Ewan running off again…_

"…you said you live thirteen blocks away?"

"Yeah."

I swallowed down the dry in my throat, glancing over to the 500cc Twin that was leant against the wall. I glanced back to the kid. He blinked at me, in thought as he pursed his lips.

Finally, I blurted, "I'll…I'll drive you home."

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

_Sam  
_

_~_

"You'll…you'll what…?"

It took me at least a moment to realise what I'd just said to this kid I had only known for five minutes.

His thin hands tightened on the camera.

"Uh…yeah?" I half-chuckled, giving a shrug and another roll of my shoulders. The denim was really starting to annoy me now. He blinked, shuffling back slightly, and it was then I just noticed how blunt and unconvincing I had actually sounded.

"I mean…if you want." I added shortly. He worried his bottom lip at my suggestion.

"…You'll take me home? For definite?"He repeated timidly. I gave a nod.

-

The thirteen blocks seemed like nothing whenever we drove down the street that had slowly began to darken, the lampposts gradually beginning to flicker on one by one.

The drive felt somewhat awkward due to what had happened only a few minutes before. When I was telling the kid to hold on to a part of the bike he instead slipped his arms round my torso with no statement or word included. Though, I didn't mind it.

I felt him give a gentle squeeze to my abdomen, indicating we were getting close to where he lived — which seemed to be the suburbs.

"Here." He then murmured, close to my ear so I could hear over the noise of the bike engine. We came to a halt at a semidetached home. There was a small barred terrace leading up to the door, a series of metal steps almost spiralling up to it. Once the kid climbed off, rucksack in hand with his camera inside, we both heard a faint curse — a shout — then the sound of smashing glass.

He whipped his head to where his home stood, the sound obviously coming from inside. He then snapped his expression back to me, eyes suddenly frightened. He could probably see I was concerned at this point, yet again.

"It's…it's my mom…" he murmured, hoping that what he said would've been a reassurance to me, but I was half-convinced. I still gave a soft nod of understanding.

The instant he spoke of the word 'mom' his voice suddenly fell slightly uneven. Unsure and faltering.

He looked at me one last time, turning on his heel but kept my gaze just a second longer before he finally turned, walking towards the black-painted steps.

_Say something, Sam._

I blinked at the thought, and called out before he could disappear up the stairs.

"You go to that place often?"

He turned back, slowly. His face seemed somewhat glad that I'd stopped him then.

He nodded.

I bit the inside of my cheek. "You'll be there tomorrow?"

He gave another nod, this time with the smallest smile tugging at one corner of his lips.

"I'll be there in the morning." He said.

With that he left, up the black, rattling staircase and into the semidetached-terraced house that didn't seem at all welcoming.

-

The next day I found myself stood in the exact same place as yesterday. I was stood at the cobbled wall of the quiet park, early in the morning with the small company of the Spring birds chirping high in the skinny, distant trees.

The air was cool with a settling mist that felt damp and dewy. The grass had been coated in it.

I wasn't much of a morning person, like most people, but enjoyed the reserved silence that was always given in the first hours of the day. Before the afternoon kicked in.

I hadn't seen Ewan for some time. Ever since yesterday I guess. He probably wasn't much of a patient person, considering the fact that he left the wall instantly just after five minutes. I had established that this was going to be a flaw of his that I'd have to get used to.

Besides, where the fuck does the guy run off to whenever he doesn't have someone to stand beside and mutter and curse and smoke and spit and rant on to?

I mentally smirked at the thought.

Hell, I didn't even know the guy's age or anything general about him. All I knew — from the little experience I had — was that he was that he gave the impression of being a reclusive sort of person.

I felt a tug at my sleeve, and I blinked almost immediately.

"You weren't blinking." A familiar voice perked up.

I obviously knew who it was, otherwise I wouldn't have responded so casually along with the subject.

"What do you mean I wasn't blinking?" I said, looking down to the kid.

He gave a little shrug as a mere response.

-

We had been talking for awhile now. Under a birch tree.

The pale sun was at its highest point in the grey-toned sky. This kid and I happened to have quite a few things in common. Well, the fact that I was seven years older than him made the whole situation feel slightly awkward, but despite it — the things we had in common were the things that I was interested in a couple of years back. My interests now feel like they aren't even interests at all. Very few had wanted to stay with me after a series of unfortunate events.

"What's your name?" He soon asked softly, looking up from pulling at the now-dry grass we were sat on.

I blinked, swallowing down a nonexistent lump in my throat.

"Sam."

"Nathan."

_Nathan._

He then smiled.

"Can I call you Sammy?"

This some how caught my attention by the throat.

"…well…if you want." I said back, a bit confused at the same time.

"What's your last name?"

"Morgan. What's yours?"

He worried his lip again at my question.

"I…I wasn't told it."

_Shit. Now you've done it. Asked a little kid with family issues._  
  
"Ah…"

_You fucking idiot._

Nathan saw my expression, and he shook his head.

"It's nothing really. I…I just find it a little strange." He said. I gave a slow nod, frowning to myself as I turned my head away for a second before looking back to him.

"You go to school?"

"No."

_Nice one._

"I feel like I keep bringing up like — really bad pastimes for you, am I?"

"Eh? No, no you're not."

"You sure?"

"Hm-hm."

I wasn't convinced, of course, and I wasn't stupid either.

Well — rephrase the stupid part.

He started to pull at the grass again, as if it were reassuring him from something, like an act of experiencing symptoms of anxiety. If I were in his position I'd be scratching the skin raw off the back of my right hand. Making a really bad impression of Charles Dicken's distinct character — _Miss Havisham_ — whilst I'm at it.

"Dogs or cats." Nathan then piped up again. I hummed.

"…I don't know. How bout you?"

"Lemurs."

Honestly, I thought I was slowly being killed by him.

Each time he looked me in the eyes I could see the sharpness of them. Like the real character of him was finally revealing itself to me. I hardly ever saw that in people during the years I had been living in the city. It felt pretty amazing, whatever the hell it was.

"…Lemurs…?" I repeated, raising a brow at him. He had ripped up a small patch of grass now.

"Hm." He grunted and studied his nails before turning to me. "Let's play a game."

_He's pretty quick at changing the subject, isn't he?_

I almost choked. For whatever reason that was.

"A game?"

He nodded, crossing his legs as he shuffled closer to where I sat.

"Yeah. We take it in turns."

"What?"

"Like — I say something about myself, then you say something about yourself. It can be anything. A word to describe what you like. Or…what you're like. Or a noun." He explained shortly.

I agreed. "Okay. You start."

He thought for a moment, blinking up to the sky.

"Lucky."

"Cigarettes."

"Mistake."

"Idiot."

"Disappointment."

"Insistent."

"Hardship."

"Uh — asshole."

We both let out a laugh.

"Why do you say that…?" He said, smiling. I rolled my eyes, cocking my head to one side in thought.

"…Well — once you get kicked out of your orphanage and get involved with a bit of crime you're finished. You also lose your virginity at a young age — mine was fourteen — and ruin others reputations and opportunities of getting real lives, therefore I can be considered an asshole."

I was expecting him to still have that youthful little grin on his face, but once I flicked my gaze over to him his smile had saddened ever so slightly.

"…What about your parents?" He asked.

"Mom died. Dad left. I was put into a boys' home."

"Then…how come you're here now?"

I chuckled gently. "I suppose you could say I ran away."

His smile returned, and he shifted his expression up to the tree's leaves, and spoke aloud, "Running away sounds like fun…"

I chuckled again, but without humour.

"It isn't whenever you're low on cash."

"But you're like…free…aren't you?"

I looked up to the leaves as well, thinking.

"…I guess that's why I ran away in the first place."

Nathan's eyes warmed. "Really?"

"Well I don't really know why…apart from being scolded by nuns every minute of the day…nothing was that interesting."

"You went to a catholic orphanage."

I gave a nod.

He lay back onto the grass, stretching his arms above his head.

"My mom died too." He then uttered softly, a little dreamily too. "I never knew my dad either." He paused. "I live with my foster mother now."

I shuffled up beside him. "At least you have someone."

He glanced at me before swallowing inaudibly, searching for a quick answer.

"She doesn't really…like me…but…I get that…"

I frowned softly at what he'd said. "Why? What's wrong…?"

"Alcoholic." His voice was barely a whisper once he faintly turned his head to the side. He spoke as if there was more than one person with us.

I wasn't sure if I was meant to do some sappy reassuring for him, or just say nothing, or just mutter out a basic, 'I'm sorry'. I was beginning to feel a little pressured over it.

"You got the 2-50?" His voice then sighed out, and he tilted his head at me as he sat up from the grass.

"Nah, 500cc. Twin."

"Cool. Where'd you lift it from?" Considering his teasing tone I knew what he was trying to get at.

I broke into a mild laugh at his question. "Now that — I earned. For once. That's something paid off with hard work right there, I'm telling you."

He laughed. "Oh really?"

"I swear to God—"

_"Yo Samuel!"_

_Ewan._

I almost could've jumped out of my skin once I heard the familiar, husky kind of voice literally scream out across the deadened park. Nathan jerked, startled.

Then, we both saw Ewan stagger through the light mist, two bottles in hand; one in which he was drinking from.

"That bastard." I cursed quietly, under my breath. Nathan blinked.

"How long have you guys known each other?"

"…a day and a half?"

"You're kidding."

"We met like a week ago."

"Seriously?"

"I'm afraid so."

"Jesus."

"Yeah. Help."

He let out a little giggle.

"Yo Samuel, I got something for ya!"

Ewan was still shouting, even though he was only a few metres away from us. With his stumbles he fell to the grass with us, letting out an irritated groan before taking a swig from his green glass bottle. I had guessed it was beer.

I had shifted slightly closer to Nathan, looking at the drunken man with a bit of uncertainty.

"'Ere you go mate." He rolled over onto one side, passing me a bottle. I took it with no words said, but, "We were wondering where you ran off yesterday."

He raised his brows, licking his dry lips. He looked a little like Mel Gibson's role of Mad Max, I had to admit, despite his attitude that didn't suit the image one bit.

" _We?_ " He repeated with a frown. Nathan poked his head out from my shadow, Ewan clicking his tongue after.

"Hiya kid."

"Ewan, this is Nathan—"

"Nathan? Cute name."

"Ewan."

"Hm?"

"Are you drunk?"

"Pft, _no_."

"It's nine in the morning."

"Ah really? Nice."

I unexpectedly had the sudden urge to whip my hand straight across his face to snap him out of his sloppy state, but doing that wouldn't do any good but make him a bit pissed off afterwards.

"Is that your real name?" I heard a timid, curious little whisper at my right ear, and I noticed Nathan had gotten pretty close to me in the last minute of drunken rambling.

"My real name?" I mimicked him softly, puzzled. Ewan had started humming a tune in the background.

"Samuel." He said.

"Well, it is, but I didn't tell that idiot what it was."

"Yo Samuel, got any cigs on ya?"

"Since when the _fuck_ do you call me _Samuel?_ "

-

"…wait…you said you lived thirteen blocks away from here?"

Ewan had decided to disappear again after what looked and sounded like he was trying to hit on Nathan, drinking the beer he himself had apparently given to me. Well, I kind of made him disappear, come to think of it.

Due to the fact that I waved a lighter in his face for no reason at all, but thought it would wake him up a little.

"…I uh…yeah?" Nathan responded. His voice uneven. I blinked twice, my eyes widening after a moment in realisation.

_He walked those thirteen blocks?_

"Did you — _walk_ — all the way here?"

"…why…?"

I was ready to get him by the shoulders and shake him until my debate sank into his head fully.

"I'm taking you home." I half-announced. "Again."

His lips parted in surprise. "What? Why? No, I…you don't need to do that I can—"

"Shut up, I'm driving you back down there."

"It's really not that far—"

" _Nathan_."

I took ahold of his wrist, gently tugging him forward as if he were on a leash. He looked up to me, his eyes soft and warm.

"I want to take you back." I repeated. "Okay?"

He looked down to his feet before looking back up again, not answering. A moment later he let out a quiet sigh of defeat and stood alongside me, and I let go of his wrist.

Once on the bike, I felt his small, delicately-sculpted hands curl round and touch the lower of my abdomen, making me shudder again. I felt him nuzzle his face into the nape of my neck, into the denim — and then reached up slightly to whisper, "You can call me Nate too."

"I like your real name." I responded almost immediately, making him jump and squeeze me tighter.

"I don't like it."

I started the engine.

"How so?"

"Because it was used a lot in early childhood."

I smiled to myself.  
  
"I can associate with that."

 

 

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

_Sam_

_~_

"…I'm guessing you haven't told your…foster mother…about this?"

"She…she wouldn't be one to care."

As Nathan climbed off the back of the bike, using one of my shoulders to balance himself, he then slipped his hands in his hoodie pockets, looking at me with warm, as if untouched, young eyes.

"I uh…" I felt as if I had to say something.

_But what?_

"How about we go somewhere?" He spoke for me, and I let out a mental sigh of relief.

"Tomorrow?" I added. He nodded, blinking.

"Eight. Morning."

"You're trying to kill me?"

He giggled, stepping closer.

"Nine?"

"I'm guessing it's the same place?"

He nodded once more, still smiling.

"See you then?" I said softly.

"Yeah. See you then."

-

The next day I came to see Nathan with a small, light bruise printed onto his right cheekbone.

It didn't seem to bother him when I sub-consciously asked him about it, his response being a dismissive, 'It's nothing.'

He sounded somewhat defensive in the moment, but I shook the subject off just as easily.

A few hours into the day we found ourselves sitting beneath the city's bridge. The water still and low beneath our dangling feet. We had been silent for a while now, both of us taking in the cold, weird feeling that had somehow settled down into the world.

"…about the bruise…" Nathan broke the dead silence. As I turned my head to face him I saw him hold two fingers to the little injury on his cheek, once touching it wincing straight after and pulling them away. "…I…I didn't want to tell you because I thought you…might think…differently of everything…"

I shook my head, shuffling closer to sit beside him.

"No…no no no, I'd never — and I understand — w-well a bit. I don't really know what's it like to have a parent that's slightly…" I paused, seeing his innocent little gaze peer upwards at me. I swallowed. "I-I'm sorry I don't really know how to…uh…explain…all of that…"

He shook his head, forcing a light smile.

"It's okay." He murmured, in thought.

"…I'm guessing your foster mother?"

"Hm."

I studied him then.

The only warm thing he wore was a long-sleeved top that seemed too thin as it was. I gently breathed through my nose before taking off my jacket some time later. Nathan furrowed his brows softly at what I was doing.

"Why are you…" he drifted off the second I draped the heavy piece of clothing over his feminine frame.

"You looked cold." I stated. He watched my face. I could see his warm eyes search mine through the cold feeling. He searched for a reason.

"You looked cold." I repeated, quieter this time. Nathan swallowed.

"I like you." He whispered unintentionally. I felt myself mentally cringe.

"You're the first to say so." I replied, rubbing my arms. It felt rather weird without having the constant weight of denim on them as well as my shoulders.

"Well, apart from Ewan and his rambling…" I added quickly, rolling my eyes at the sudden thought of the older man. Nate looked up to me. "Genuinely, you're the first."

He then tugged the jacket up closer to himself, slipping his arms into the spaces. The cuffs hung just at the tips of his fingers. He looked at me again, nibbling his lip.

"You smoke?" He said, somewhat inquisitive. I gave a brief nod.

"Why? Did you want to?" He asked twice, nearing my side. I gave a small shake of my head to his question.

"It's not that I wanted to. I tried it and got used it. I started doing it when I was stressed out. Now it's like second nature for me to smoke."

"I've never seen you smoking."

I chuckled. "I smoke before I sleep. It helps. Sometimes throughout the day."

"Hm." I could hear the uneven tone in his voice.

"Don't tell me you're thinking of starting." I warned, half-playful and half-serious. He shrugged.

"…no, not really…"

"Then why were you looking at me like that?"

I waited for an answer, but instead found him nearing even closer, to the point where our arms brushed against each other, and he rested his head on my right shoulder. He let out a sigh that was barely audible in the light, wishy-washy sound of the stilling water.

"Your jacket smells nice."

I almost snorted. "Wow."

"No, really, it does."

"What of?"

"…like…a really faint aftershave…"

"Huh, you know things I don't even know about myself."

I sensed him smile.

"…what's the one thing you wish to do when you have the chance?"

"…uh…I dunno. Realistically?"

"Anything."

"Probably to get a new life or something. What's yours?"

"Get a white pencil to draw the constellations in the sky. Make them real."

"You're weird."

"I might say the same thing to you."

"Hm?"

"You have a guy that's probably twice your age tailgating you and asking for cigarettes whenever he has the chance."

I moved my eyes down him, humming as another response. Then, slightly hesitant, I slipped one arm around his body, pulling him closer. He didn't mind it, from what I could tell.

"The thought does come to me often…what it would be like if my mom hadn't died and my dad cared as much as _she_ did back then. I can't do anything about it now, though." He continued, taking in a deep breath as if he were about to say something I wasn't going to agree on.

"…Sam…?" It was the first time he'd said my name, actually, to get my attention fully instead of leaving off on a current conversation.

"Yeah?"

"Have you…ever been in a relationship before?"

I couldn't help but smirk and roll my eyes at the thought. Remembering the pathetic experiences I had once a few years ago.

"Well…once…" I said. "Her name was Crystal. I mean…yeah we got along and stuff but then I went away and then she went a bit _all-over-the-place_ and was like, 'Sam I can't take this anymore' and then we left it like that for awhile then got back together again and the whole thing just kept repeating over and over again for a year or so and now I realise I didn't even like dating women back then." Once I looked down to see his expression he was completely puzzled with my synopsis.

"I…shouldn't have even told you that." I uttered afterwards. He shook his head slowly.

"N-No I get it…so…uh…it was like uh…an…on-and-off…kind of thing?"

"To cut things short — yes, it was."

"Are you…still together?"

"What? Jesus, no. I would've already killed myself by now if I'd still been with her. Being in a relationship takes guts, I've established…" I chuckled. "What? You got a girlfriend or something?"

A tinge of pink grew into his cheeks.

"What? No. I was just asking…"

"Oh really?"

"Yeah."

"I'm not convinced."

"I'm serious!"

He glared at me with a blush still blooming on his face, and I knew I wasn't going to be able to take things seriously with him looking like that.

"Nate, you're blushing." I pointed out, giving him a soft squeeze with the arm I had around him. No matter how annoyed he seemed, he still didn't pull away from my mental pokes and prods.

"You're the one who started it…" he mumbled, his head falling back onto my shoulder. I chuckled and turned my head to the settling scene before us.

"You're the one who asked." I said back, my voice gentle.

"You're the one who took it too far." He added.

"You're the one who made it easy for me to do so."

"Oh shut up."

"I win?"

"Sure."

I loosened my hold around him just a bit to give him a moment to wriggle into comfort again, and this time, he moved a touch closer so I could rest my head atop of his.

"Sammy."

"Hm?"

"How do you know if you should run away?"

_What?_

Regardless of how I felt in that instant, I froze in my place at the words he'd said. Something about them made my stomach drop — there was no such thing that could do mental affect to me. Ever. I knew that for a definite fact.

How _do_ you know if you should run away or not?

_Wait._

He was all for it, just then. Wasn't he.

There was no 'or' either 'but' in his question.

Was he deciding to?

No, that couldn't be right. I've established that this kid has the brains to know when a guy like me would flip out at his suggestion. He'd know how I'd react to his statement. He would.

So…why would he ask?

_Sam, you're overthinking it, just shut up._

"…run…away…?"

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

_Sam_

_~_

"How do you know if you should run away or not, huh?"

Nathan looked up to me, his eyes seemingly hopeful for a full response as I dragged out a loud sigh.

"I guess you just do." I said, blinking tiredly. His eyes widened.

"No…no no, there's something else, I know it."

"Nate, if you want my opinion, to me there's no real answer to running away. We all have reasons."

"That's not the point—"

"Are you thinking of running away from your foster mother?"

_Oh, now you've done it._

Once I realised what I'd just blurted out right to his face, I was about to apologise in that instant, but before I could, he shifted even closer, silently cuddling into me again. I didn't say anything else but followed his lead, pulling him closer to my side and chest.

"…sometimes…things like…that…aren't really my place to have a say…" I began quietly. He nodded, his head still lowered.

He whispered back, "Yeah."

-

"Hey uh…sorry about what happened the day before…"

"It's fine."

"Sure mate?"

"I'm sure."

Last night when I dropped Nathan off back home he said he wouldn't be able to do anything the day after. So here I was, currently glued to a pale-looking Ewan.

"Oh my _God_." I half-muttered once I saw the real state of him, especially his face. He raised a brow, taking the cigarette out from his lips to speak.

"What?"

I almost laughed.

"What the _fuck_ happened to your nose?"

He smirked as I indicated the small white plaster that was stuck across the bridge of his nose, a small smear of red printed to one edge of it.

"Oh, that? That's nothing."

"Fistfight?"

"Nah. Some hooker whipped her car keys across my face."

_A hooker. Of course._

"Jesus, Ewan."

"I mean, she was kinda nice and all…"

"I'm not surprised that she decided to hit you with her car keys."

"It was the…y'know the blocky thing that hit me?"

"Where the key flips up."

"Yeah, that thing. I mean, I didn't feel anything."

"…why not?"

"I dunno. It was right between the eyes though. Everything went a little dark for a second, then I felt the pain."

He popped the cigarette back between his lips, taking in a drag.

"How old are you again?" I asked, pulling my legs up to my chest before crossing them. He coughed.

"I turned twenty-four a few months ago."

"Wow."

"What?"

"Nothing. I thought you were like…thirty or something."

"I look that old?"

"Nah. I think it's because you don't shave as often."

"Oh really?"

"Did I offend you?"

"No, actually, you gave me a hint."

"For what?"

"That I can still hit on twelve year olds."

He let out a laugh once he saw my flustered expression, and I slowly shifted a bit away from him — unknowingly making him shift closer to me than he was before.

He hung a lazy arm round my neck, pulling me close enough until our foreheads touched with a soft bump. I could smell the strong scent of a minty deodorant from him, as well as noticing a light bruise forming where the plaster sat on his bridge.

"What? Oh, come on. You're goin' out with a fucking kid that's like, I dunno — ten?" He grinned, teasing. I felt myself blush ever so slightly once I knew who he was referring to, and I immediately jerked back.

"Unlike you, I don't hit on kids." I shot at him, crossing my arms. He ignored my statement with a small exhale of smoke through his nose.  
  
"I bet my dick you're gonna fuck him."

"Ewan."

That just egged him on even more.

"And you're gonna love doing it."

" _Ewan_."

"C'mon, just imagine it, for a moment at least—"

"I hardly _know_ the kid!"

He leant forward again, tutting as he hung another arm around me. I rolled my eyes, squirming at the same time.

"Samuel," he started.

"It's _Sam_." I half-growled in response.

" _Sam_. You see, every alpha male in the world, at some point — needs a mate."

I groaned, earning a shush from him.

"And that mate — can be anyone. Doesn't matter who the fuck it is. That mate could be younger than the kid you're gonna fuck sooner or later."

"I'm not gonna fuck hi—" I stopped myself for a second, closing my eyes and swallowed; to control myself, and to control my actions that I was so fucking close to losing. "—I'm _not_ going to do 'it' with a twelve year old. Got it?"

"Whatever — now where was I? Oh, yeah — it doesn't matter who the fuck your mate is. It's instinct! You need to understand that! When your heat comes you won't be able to resist taking that little—"

"Whoa whoa wait a second, how do you know so much about wolves?"

He blinked, letting go of me.

"I like them. That's why."

I smirked to myself.

"Dork."

"Samuel."

"Don't call me that dammit!"

-

"You miss him?"

"Haha, cute."

"No, seriously."

We were sitting on the grass now, beneath one of the skinny, pale birch trees. Ewan was slumped against the small trunk of it, fumbling with my lighter as he spoke. I was laid down beside him on the grass, flat on my stomach whilst using my elbows to support myself.

"…you don't think…it's a bit weird…do you…?" I began slowly, looking over to him. He chuckled, flipping the metal cap back to reveal a bright orange flame. He then tossed it back to me, the cap closing once he let go of it.

"Only if you think it is." He answered. "Personally…I'm not sure."

"N-Not like that," I paused. "I mean generally."

He let out a long, thought-filled sigh before responding. He glanced up to the grey sky.

"Well…what does he think of it?"

What does _he_ think of it? Of me? Of us?

"Yeah, I'm gonna have to do a Houdini to get out of that if I wanted to…and anyway…he's got a home."

"Define _home_."

I rolled over onto my side to get a better view of him. He wore a somewhat guilt-stricken expression, and I frowned at first, until I noticed him pull a half-smile at me, as if he knew something about Nathan. And he did.

"Have you…been following us?" I blurted. He laughed at first, shaking his head.

"What? No. Isn't it kinda obvious that the kid's parents are likely dead?"

"Well…his mom is. Don't know about the dad."

"Who's he living with then?"

"Apparently an alcoholic foster mother."

"Shit."

"Yeah."

"Sounds as if the kid's too good for his world."

"He asked me about running away and stuff…I get it and all…but…"

"How about you run away with him?"

_Wait._

This time I sat up, rubbing the back of my neck at the same time, my head suddenly swarming in thought over what Ewan had just unintentionally said to me.

"Or, it could be the other way round. He goes your way instead." He added, pulling out another cigarette after making a little gesture. I passed the lighter back to him, earning a small 'thanks' before he continued. "Mates gotta stick together." He paused, lighting the small two-toned stick, still mumbling and repeating what he'd just said, "Mates always gotta stick together…always stick together…"

"Alright I get the point." I half-muttered.

"I'm just sayin'." He added back, humorous in defence.

I looked up at the sky.

"…I mean…I guess I don't have anything to be doing around here…"

"Yeah. Leave your job. I'd so do that."

"Are you being sarcastic?"

"No. Why?"

"That's sorta worrying."

"Look, there's plenty of bits and pieces you're able to pick up when you leave town. People out there want someone just for a night to work in a bar or whatever. No big deal. It's easy. Cash itself, here, is easy. Trust me. I've been doing fuck all my life and I'm still alive."

"Yeah, alive."

"That's another thing actually. You gotta take that seriously too."

"What?"

He popped the cigarette back between his lips, letting out a small puff before reaching down into one of his worn, heavy pockets that seemed to be filled with whatever essentials he chose to carry around with him.

And then, to my horror, he pulled out a handgun, at the same time saying, "Make sure you carry one of these guys."

"Holy shit put that thing back."

"What why? What's wrong?"

"It's a fucking _gun_ that's what's wrong!"

"Huh? This is nothing. Wanna see something better?"

"I don't care, just put it away for God's sake!"

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

_Sam_

_~_

_'Which one is your room?'_

_'The front window — at the top.'_

-

I remember Nate telling me which window was his, the front of the terraced home he lived in.

I didn't see him throughout the next few days that passed by. Even though the thought sickened me for whatever reason, I began to get a little worried.

"So, is this his house?"

"You can at least keep your voice down…"

"SO IS THIS HIS HOUSE—"

"Ewan!!!"

I almost toppled over the side of my bike, luckily just coming in contact with the front, one of the hand clutches jabbing me in the waist. Ewan cackled, literally on the point of choking on the cigarette he was smoking.

"Jesus Christ, you should see your face, I'm tellin' ya!"  
  
"Would you shut up?!" I hissed, clutching my side in irritation, discreetly rubbing away the numbing pain as I circled my way past him, almost tripping again in the process.

I had a few problems whilst getting Ewan to help out. Getting him to sit behind me on the bike was hard enough, never mind his constant annoyance and chirpy voice he sometimes decided to use after he had a cigarette or two. When I told him to hold onto the seat and not my waist, he immediately did what I told him not to do. Although, it felt like a whole new level of worse when he began squeezing me and whispering 'sweet nothings' in my ear whilst driving down the deadened street.

_The bastard._

"Want me to lift you?" Ewan teased lovingly. I flipped him the finger as I forwarded past the black-painted steps and its railing.

"I would appreciate it if you _literally_ just stood still?" I said.

"Is that a suggestion or a demand?"

"Both. Good enough for you?"

"Ah."

He grinned as he turned on his heel, back to the bike and leant himself against it, making an inappropriate gesture with his parted lips and tongue before waving a hand at me to move along with what I was doing.

I looked up to the terraced building.

It was separated into two holds, I was guessing. A bit like a semi-detached. Considering that there were two doors above one another, the stairs winding up to them each.

Nathan said he lived at the top, didn't he.

I studied the house for another minute or so, quickly scanning over what would be easy for me to grab ahold of.

_Maybe the down pipe would hold my weight._

I hadn't ever planned out strategies — or whatever people decided to call them. I just climbed whatever I thought would hold in place, and what was easy to latch onto.

Curling my fingers round one of the clips that held the gutter pipe to the brick, I began to pull myself up, little by little.

I could hear Ewan whistle from below.

"Sam. Yo, Samuel." He spoke aloud. Rolling my eyes and muttering a few curses, I turned my head to glance down at him, spitting out a harsh, loud whisper, "What?!"

He grinned. "You've got a nice ass."

I didn't respond, or get to see his reaction once I turned my head away from his beady gaze and laugh once I continued to climb upwards.

_Holy shit, I'm almost there._

As quick as everything had happened, Nate's window sat at my left, just an arm-length away. To my right was another window, which was likely a bathroom, considering the patterned glass. I had also reached the top of the pipe, ending up clinging onto the gutter. Above me, was the roof ledge.

Blinking again, I stretched up to get a grasp onto the ledge before setting one foot into the gutter for support whilst I hung there, but the instant I put my weight on it, I immediately regretted everything.

The gutter snapped — _damn fucking plastic_ — and I instinctively let out a yelp of surprise as I just luckily caught myself onto Nathan's window ledge. From below, Ewan let out a curse at what had just happened.

"Holy shit!" He exclaimed. "Are you alright man?"

I closed my eyes, breathing heavily and trying to steady my heart beat before responding in a loud hiss, "Yeah, great."

He chuckled.

Climbing things wasn't one of my strong points, I'd established. It felt as if I hardly had the common sense to look where I was going.

Then again, people I pass throughout the years say I'm pretty delusional.

" _Sam?_ "

Nate's window had creaked open, to reveal the boy himself. My eyes widened, and my heart went off course again, my fingers slipping. Ewan had began to cackle from below.

"O-Oh my God," Nathan muttered, instantly reaching out to grab my arm as hard as he could, pulling. I let out nervy chuckle, grunting as I moved my other hand to grasp onto the window frame — praying to God it wouldn't crack with my weight.

"Relax, I-I got this," I said, breathless with a smile. Nathan shot me a look.

"You're hanging from my _fucking_ _window_." He exclaimed in a tone I couldn't quite place.

"Since when do you swear?" I joked, trying to lighten the mood (bypassing the fact that any second the ledge could break, including the frame) still struggling until I gained a little more strength. He raised a brow at me.

Rolling my eyes, I heaved myself up onto the ledge, feeling my top slip up and the skin of my torso touch the cold stone a moment after.

"Fuck that's cold." My voice uttered, and then, with one last pull, I'd made it through, the soles of my feet hitting that cheap made-to-look-like-wood laminate material. With a sigh, I blinked twice, at him.

Before he could say anything, I quickly added, "I uh — I think I broke your gutter."

He gave a slow nod, still staring at me.

"…that's…that's fine…" he responded, his eyes continuing to scan my appearance. He looked me up and down before taking a step back, as if waiting for me to explain my purpose of clambering my way into his home.

_Did I just forget why I climbed this fucking building?_

"I'm so sorry." I blurted. What the actual fuck Sam. Nathan frowned, confused.

"No — I mean I — I uh…" as I trailed off I could see a little spark ignite in the dark of his shimmering eyes.

He sure was enjoying the state of me stammering.

"Ewan came along with you, didn't he." He said softly, already smiling. I nodded. The boy wandered past me, back to the window and peered out to the bottom. I crept slowly to the side of him, blinking at him then to where Ewan was mucking about.

The twenty-four year old was leant against my bike, unsurprisingly smoking and studying the little joints of his fingers and the white of his knuckles. He seemed rather concentrated, actually. Maybe even a little innocent the way he was behaving when alone.

Nate hummed to himself as he turned back to me. "So…why did you climb up to my window?"

"Remember you said you wanted to run away?"

His light-hearted gaze dropped, and his lips parted questioningly. "…what…?"

I wandered closer to him, until he had to tilt his head upwards to meet my gaze.

"…I'm…I'm gonna leave too," I said, my voice quiet. "…and…I was wondering if you…if you'd like to come with me."

Nathan leant against the old, bluish, wan-tinged wall, sighing inwardly. He swallowed.

"…where are you going…?" His voice could've been considered a whisper.

I gave a shrug. "…I'm not really one to make plans. I figure things out along the way, y'know?"

He nodded, turning back to the open window. Ewan was whistling from the bottom, scuffing his boots off the gravel.

"Yeah…" he said.

We endured a silence then. The silence was full of thought. Complete thought. Nothing else. Only thought.

Nate looked back to me.

"When are you going?"

I blinked.

I haven't thought about that, actually.

"Ah…whenever I guess." I said. "Tomorrow morning perhaps. I mean, when do you want to go…?"

He glanced down at his feet. "Tomorrow morning…would be good…"

The sudden look on his face made me feel the all uneasy with what I'd just suggested, and with what he'd just agreed to. The little spark in the rich colour of hesitant eyes had grown into something I couldn't quite understand.

_What was it?_

"Nathan?"

He flinched for a second when I'd said his name.

"I-I'm fine." He said quickly, still looking down at the floor.

"Nathan." I repeated, softer this time, taking a step forward to him.

He didn't respond.

The moment I reached out a hesitant hand to touch the side of his shoulder, I almost stumbled backwards once I found him cuddling and burying himself into my waist.

"Thank you." He murmured.

Slowly, I curled my arms around his small figure, pulling him close to my chest. I could feel the faint warmth emit from him, and I squeezed a little tighter, lowering my head to nuzzle my nose into his hair.

_"S-Sammy…?"_

"Hm?"

_"Y-You're squishing me."_

I loosened my grasp on his frame, and he reluctantly pulled away.

-

"Imagine if the world just… _died_."

"You…imagine weird things."

"Uh-huh? You're a fucking realist, man."

"I'm not a realist, I'm just…more focused in reality, that's all."

After I sorted things out with Nate, Ewan decided to look for a side store that hopefully sold the cigarettes he was wanting.

"I hate how they put weird fucking pictures on the boxes of these." He commented as he picked up a pack, studying it. I looked up to the ceiling that was stained and marked with years-old leaks.

"It means you'll end up dying sooner or later." I blurted, bumping shoulders with him. He hummed.

"Well, I limit my smokes."

I almost laughed. "Sure, keep telling yourself that."

He grabbed my arm, tugging me back as I tried to walk away.

"You're pretty good too, not to mention."

"I'll be taking one in a minute if you keep stressing me the fuck out."

He let go of me, but took ahold of the underside of my jaw, his rough fingers caressing my skin as he pulled me forward to his face.

" _Pretty boy_." He whispered with a sharp grin. I jabbed him in the ribs and pulled away, rubbing my jaw.

-

"What're you gonna do then?"

"Hm?"

"Like, since I'm not here, are you gonna go get yourself killed?"

Ewan laughed, scuffing his boots off the gravel as we walked through an empty parking lot.

"Eh. I'll miss you. A bit." He murmured with a small grin.

"Seriously, when I first met you, I thought you were gonna fuck me."

He literally choked — then sputtered — then coughed — in that moment.

When he became fully aware of what I'd just said, he swallowed loudly, raising his brows at me with a blank expression before turning on his heel, obviously heading for the till.

When he left me standing in that particular aisle, I chuckled quietly at his reaction, then lifted my head and took one more glance at the leaky ceiling before shouting, out to him, loud enough so everyone in the deadened store could hear me, "I'm kinda still a virgin."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	6. Chapter 6

_Sam_

_~_

Like every other day, I woke, for a second propping myself up on my elbows, tiredly lifting my head to see the skinny-framed window in front of me. That window, with dried, old, crackled paint peeling off it every day. It annoyed me, for some reason. Just by looking at it, made me want to smash my fist through it, hoping to leave it without a shard of glass in the frame, and maybe, just maybe, hoping to hurt myself.

Just a little bit.

If I hurt myself by smashing a fist through that window, I would then know that I wasn't dreaming.

After wearily staggering into the cubically-shaped bathroom I barely kept cleanly and nicely maintained, I set either hand on both sides of the sink. And looked up to the cracked mirror that hung there.

_Who was this?_

I closed my eyes.

_Whom made this boy's heart suddenly die?_

I opened them.

_Who's going to fix him?_

I closed them again for a moment more.

Then opened them.

Nothing was changing.

I pushed myself away from the sink, glaring at the nineteen year old and his sunken eyes, glared at the way his hair had been ruffled to one side — completely untamed — and how his hazel eyes seemed to sharpen in tone when I thought even more about him.

_He's really changed, over the years, hasn't he._

I stripped down to take a quick shower, afterwards briefly rubbing through my hair with a towel before pulling on what I had been wearing yesterday and packed a bag.

_Where did his mother go to leave him like this?_

-

I of course didn't decide to walk up and bang my knuckles on his front door, so, feeling as if I were shooting a scene of lover-like tension, I brushed my fingers down across the ground, picking up some fine stones of gravel before blindly tossing them up to Nathan's window.

Almost immediately, his small, peculiar, little face of curiosity revealed in the glass, and he blinked once before vanishing again.

I scuffed the soles of my shoes, glancing down at the gravel before peering back up.

The boy quietly slipped through the door, the same backpack he had when I first saw him slung across one shoulder. Now, when I studied him a little more, he was dressed appropriately. He was wearing pale blue jeans that seemed just a tad big round his ankles and calves. He wore a much thicker, faded red hoodie too, the sleeves ending around his knuckles.

He shut the door quietly behind him, padding softly down the black, metal staircase that rang ever so gently each time he took a step. When he was standing in front of me, he cocked his head at me, a lock of hair falling across his eyes.

"Let's go." He whispered, gently bumping his shoulder against my right arm as he brushed past to where I'd parked the motorcycle.

-

It had been quite a long time ever since I left the city.

I guess you could call me a bit of a drifter, when you pieced up the pieces that were left of my pastime. I never really liked to stay in one place, and I somehow never felt the need or want to settle down somewhere.

Well, it wasn't until I found out that the suburbs were literally dead I then decided to rent out a small apartment, and found an okay-ish job that I could easily slack off in whenever I wanted to. The guys there were alright as well, which made things a little better.  
  
Although, remembering and knowing you were being followed by a bunch picked from the bad patch — it was the reason why I had become familiar from jumping from place to place.

_Fuck it, new plan._

_Yup. That was me._

Nathan's delicate touch at my abdomen sent me spiralling out of my thoughts and back into reality, where the air was jetting past my skin so smoothly it felt like wind. I could feel his fingers move and gently press into my torso, as if trying to physically familiarise himself with me. I was assuming that his face was half-buried and was close to the nape of my neck, because I could feel the faint, warm breath emit from him each time he breathed out.

I squinted, blinking as I stared ahead of the empty road.

Everything was so silent. So quiet. Almost deathly if I thought about it more. It felt like the only sound and life in the world that fully existed was the two of us, and a machine's growling engine.

Nathan didn't seem to care about any of that, though.

"You falling asleep?"

"Hm…? What? No…"

A few hours later, close to the evening, we stopped off at a garage. As I stood fuelling the motorcycle Nate prodded my side.

"Tired yet?" I asked him with a soft lightness in my voice. He shook his head, his eyes somewhat weary, making it obvious. I chuckled.

"We'll find a motel or something when we get into the next town."

"How many have we gone through?"

"Like — two?"

He shut his eyes tight, cursing under his breath as he opened them again, looking away. I raised a brow, "You alright?"

Nathan rubbed the back of his neck, looking at me before looking back behind us to where the straight road sat in the absolutely flat landscape. He frowned, in thought at himself, then blinked his gaze back to mine, swallowing.

"It's nothing. I just…feel a bit weird." He said, his tone careful. I hummed, pulling out the petrol pump once I checked that it was filled.

"What kind of weird?" I responded, sending him a glance. The side of his lip quirked.

"Like butterflies. But…dead ones."

"Dead butterflies."

"Use your imagination alright?"

I grinned sheepishly, at him and at his statement as I shoved a hand down into my back pocket to find the money I'd kept for fuel. Pulling out the twenty, I folded it up between my two fingers before motioning him to come into the store.

When I about reached the clerk's counter, Nathan had already vanished somewhere throughout the shop. I had just gotten a glimpse of the back of his tuft-up hair before he disappeared behind one of the small aisles.

Whilst he was doing his own thing, I decided to buy a few snacks and drinks for the rest of the journey we were going to have to endure.

I found him studying the small section of magazines that was placed at the back. He hadn't noticed me until I purposely, gently bumped my shoulder to his. He looked up, his eyes calm but wide at the sight of me. After, when he was convinced I wasn't going to say anything, he looked back to the bright layout of words and pictures once more.

"You like colours?" I said. He looked back up to me.

"I like warm colours. You?"

"Like…I dunno — blue?"

I earned a laugh from him when I said that.

I neared closer to him. "By…warm colours…you mean…red and orange?"

"Hm. Yellow too."

I could feel him unintentionally let his gaze linger on me in that moment. He was blinking, his eyes still searching me, even though I had turned my attention onto something else.

Oh, but I was still fully aware of him and his eyes that were boring through the side of my head.

A moment later, he looked away, and shuffled closer to my side, his curious little gaze suddenly shying away from mine. He leant in to my waist, and instinctively, I wrapped an arm round his shoulders, mentally warming him up in the cool air of the store.

 

 

 

 

 


	7. Chapter 7

_Sam_

_~_

Nathan's cheeks and knuckles had turned a blistered pink when we found the nearest motel.

The sky was dark, but clouds could still be seen if you looked close enough. You could even see them moving like slow, wandering giants that roamed the space.

Nathan let out a kitten-like sneeze, squeaking as his hands flew up to cover his nose and mouth.

The motel stood in the dead of the quiet night, it's outdoor lights occasionally flickering like dying insects. After parking the bike in an appropriate place, I motioned us both towards the long, flat, building.

The reception was bland and small, completely separate to the outside staircase that led to the rooms. The walls were all painted a sickly-pale yellow, with a few random pictures hammered up to make the place look a little bit more decent.

"You stayin' here for a night?"

A man in his mid-thirties came round the corner, his hands deep in his jean pockets, and his eyes bored into us both as he spoke, the dark rings around them making them look even worse.

I gave a short nod.

We were given a key that was worn and scratchy from the feel and look, and were told a few things about the room we were staying in before heading off to it.

Nathan let out another sneeze, and this time, I couldn't help but turn round on him, tower over him and his alarmed expression, and simply ask what was wrong with him.

"Do you feel cold?" I questioned. He hesitated, blinking, then shook his head.

When we got to our room, I unlocked the door and Nate slipped past me to take the first glance inside.

Of course, it wasn't that much.

There was one made double bed pushed to the far corner of the wall, a bedside table at only one of the sides. There was another table (with two chairs) close to where we stood, a radio placed on top. The floor was a rough, worn, greyish-green carpet. A closed door was placed to the right, and I assumed that was the bathroom.

_Awkward._

Nathan sneezed again.

When I looked down at him, he looked up at me.

-

"Sam…?"

"…Hm…"

"Are you awake…?"

I wasn't awake one bit when Nate prodded me in the side. Once I took a quick shower, all I remember is falling almost instantly to sleep when I lay my head down.

I slowly and tiredly opened one eye to see the room completely plunged into darkness. I grunted as I shifted onto my back, letting out a sigh as I closed my eyes again.

"…what's wrong…?" I said in a mutter, my voice husky. I heard him shuffle in the bed.

"I'm cold…"

I blindly stretched out my right arm, as an invitation for him. "C'mere."

It took me a moment to realise that what I was doing was completely breaking my personal boundaries and rules.

_Fuck, was Ewan right all along?_

Nathan curled himself up into my side, his head just brushing my chest before I — absolutely unaware that he was wide awake and alert — grumbled out in an incoherent voice, "You're not gonna get warm if I'm not fucking squishing you."

He let out a squeak of embarrassment, and I tried to laugh, but ended up letting out a painful sort of sound and couldn't stop it.

"Sam." It wasn't until then I realised that he too, was in a quiet fit of giggles.

"Sorry, sorry." I mumbled with a grin, weary in the little moment before pulling him close with a soft grunt.

I felt my palm brush the cold skin of his bare arm, my hand resting down over the back of his own once I'd closed my eyes again. He swallowed, for sure when I did that. And he swallowed again when I spoke in a husky tone, close to his ear, "You're not even wearing anything."

I felt him shrug under my hold, "I'd still be cold. You're always warm."

"I'm not always." I said back. He hummed.

"How so?"

I didn't respond.

I squeezed him a little tighter, breathing out a quiet sigh before speaking once more, "Get some sleep, kid."

His hand shifted then. His cold little fingers intertwined with mine, and he gave a gentle squeeze of gratitude.

"Goodnight." He whispered.

I squeezed back.


	8. Chapter 8

_Sam_

_~_

It took me at least a minute of staring at the ceiling to figure out where I was when I opened my eyes.

It also took me a moment to figure out whom was sleeping on my chest.

Nathan's head was rested around my collar bone, with one arm stretched across my middle. The thin, flimsy top he wore had been pulled up past his waist, revealing his smooth, creamy skin.

His breathing was calm and quiet, gentle and frail like a newborn child's.

Then, he moved, sliding off me and rolled over onto his side with a small yawn. I suddenly felt somewhat cold.

"…Sam…"

"…I'm here…"

He made a sound of approval before curling up again, much like a cat going back into its daily doze, and stayed like that. His hair was a mess, and his head wasn't even resting on a pillow anymore — never mind lying on my upper body for several hours straight.

I propped myself up with a soft grunt, squinting at my surroundings, and forced myself to get up and take a shower before he woke up again.

-

The motel bathroom was cleaner than the one I used back in my apartment.

It was bigger too, which felt nice for whatever reason. Maybe the change was what felt nice. The little things seemed to create more of an effect on me than the bigger ones.

I stripped, tiredly leant against one of the tiled walls as I unbuttoned the front of my jeans after I'd pulled off my top.

I couldn't remember how long I was stood in the running shower.

The warm water running down my back and spilling across my shoulder blades and down the front of my chest and torso was the only thing I was aware of until a timid, familiar knock sounded at the other side of the bathroom door.

My head snapped up immediately, suddenly afraid for the door to open whilst I was stood there in the bathtub, completely stark.

_"Sam?"_ Nathan spoke.

"Uh…yeah?" I responded in slight uncertainty.

_"Ewan called you a minute ago."_

"Call him back. Say hi."

I didn't get a response from him then, and I wasn't sure whether to get out and call Ewan back myself. But I didn't.

Minutes later as I was half way through finishing off showering, I heard Nathan's voice murmur in the other room. He was chuckling quietly, humming in response to the caller over my phone.

I got out, grabbed a towel and dried myself off, loosely wrapping it round my hips before opening the door to receive a slightly cold hit of air. I shivered.

Nathan looked up from where he was sat on the unmade bed, my cellphone held up to his right ear, and he blinked at me, a tinge of pink beginning to bleed into his cheeks.

'He's happy.' The boy mouthed.

-

_"Can I break into your apartment?"_

I now figured why Nathan said Ewan was apparently 'happy'. He was probably on fucking ecstasy.

"No. You can't." I bluntly responded as I counted out the remaining coins I had. Nathan was still sat on the bed, quiet as ever, and watched me contently as I paced around the room, cursing then and again.

_"Aw c'mon."_

"I said no."

_"Sam."_

"Fuck you."

_"I'm standing at your front door right now."_

"Don't you dare."

_"Listen — there's this guy I sorta knocked out last night and he was really pissed off when he woke up with a broken nose. I need to hide somewhere."_

I dragged out a tired sigh, humming in disapproval.

_"Please? I'll suck you of or something next time I see you."_

I grimaced. " _Christ_."

_"Okay maybe I'm a little high — do you have spare key or some shit?"_

"Uh…you might have to like…pick the lock a bit then give the door a shove."

_"Great. Thanks mate—"_

"No no no, wait Goddammit!—" he cut the line off, and I closed my eyes in defeat.

Hell, if he was clever enough, he could've just kicked the door down without calling me for permission.

I turned round to Nate, who was still sat there, nibbling his bottom lip.

"Did he say anything to you?" I asked.

"…he…said hi? Then…said something about… _'knocking me the fuck up because I'm cute_ —"

" _Okay_."

"What does that mean?"

I chuckled, a little nervous, "I shouldn't really be telling you these things, kid."

One corner of his lips quirked at my answer, and he furrowed his brows in question. I rolled my eyes.

"I'm trying here. At least give me a bit of credit." I said again, almost automatically letting my towel loose, forgetting he was still there.

"Credit for what exactly?" He said, somewhat sly as he shuffled back into the bed. I set my phone down on the table surface, finding my keys there too.

"Credit for trying to keep you away from guys that want to fuck you, in other words."

Suddenly, his expression fell the moment I said that. He tensed a little.

"Well, you gonna get showered before we head off again?"

Nathan blushed, reluctant due to my wording, but got up.


	9. Chapter 9

_Sam_

_~_

"Tell me a little more about yourself."

"There's not really much to it."

We had been on the road for over two hours at least, and we chose to stop for a small break before we headed off again.

The motorway was quiet.

There were no cars, no nothing.

Just us.

It felt completely unnatural, and for once, I genuinely felt a hint of fear lurk in the pit of my stomach. Although, Nathan didn't seem bothered by it one bit. He was sat on the edge of the road, near the parked motorcycle. He was looking out across the plain landscape, in thought, possibly. But his eyes showed something more than that.

They showed the tiniest bit of compassion.

"I don't think I ever had anyone else." He then said, still staring out across the scenery. The sky was a dull, morning blue. "I was too young to remember when my real mom died—" he stopped suddenly, his face going blank and pale. He then let out a humourless chuckle, "—I swear to God there _was_ someone else." He turned his head to look at me.

"What do you mean..?" I responded, plopping myself down beside him.

"Like, I dunno…there was just…someone else there with me. He knew my mom well. He loved her more than I did."

_Hell, I know how that feels._

He chuckled again, quieter this time, "…maybe I was in an accident or something…I always remember people. But I don't remember _him_ being there."

"Then…how do you remember there was someone there with you?" I edged. He shook his head, perplexed.

"I remember a little of his voice. That's why." He looked at me again, and our eyes met. He blinked. "He looked after me. A lot."

Nathan then tensed like he did back in the motel. He bit the inside of his lip as he glowered at the landscape, and I knew in that moment something was annoying him. I wanted to ask if he was alright, but I just sat there and watched him carefully.

"How often do you smoke." He asked — in fact, it wasn't even a question at all, it was more of a demand.

"Why do you want to know?" I replied. He he leant forward, and reached out to grasp the front of my top as he pulled me down to his height.

"Can you keep a secret?" He whispered.

-

I was expecting the town we arrived in next was going to be quiet like our own, but I guess I underestimated it. The place was thriving with life. There were nightclubs at every corner; bars, small markets, and a few foreign restaurants. The roads were narrow and tight in some places, especially at turns, and it reminded me a little of Rio's favela streets.

I could tell that Nathan didn't want the drive to end. He was so quiet behind me, his arms wrapped round my waist as he took in the blinding, neon-lighted scenery before us. When I spoke to him, I was sure he couldn't hear me because of how deep in thought he was.

It took me some time to figure out where there would be free parking in the place, since the streets were practically crowded with cars and passing people — most of which were slightly drunk, from what I'd seen.

"Are you cold?" I questioned Nate once I'd parked the bike in an appropriate place, away from the main streets. He shoved his hands into his pockets and shook his head.

"Are you hungry?" I added. He hesitated.

"No."

"You only ate something this morning."

"I know."

A silence.

A small smile slipped onto my lips in that moment, and I was glad that the sky was completely dark apart from the ill-lighted street lamps that were near to us, so he couldn't see my expression. Noise emitted from the front of the streets we were behind.

"Nathan,"

He started walking ahead of me, and I chuckled to myself, and pulled him back.

"You haven't eaten anything all day." I said. He looked up at me.

"I ate something before we left."

"Yeah — that was at like _nine in the morning_ , and it's now—" I took out my phone and checked the time, "—half ten at night."

He gave a shrug, and I pulled him close, "You need to eat something, okay?"

"I'm not hungry." He protested.

"Oh shut up I know you are. Don't lie."

"…But…you've already done so much."

_Was that a good or bad thing?_

"What?"

"Never mind."

-

"Did Ewan get into your apartment alright?"

We were sat in the back of a small take-out restaurant that mostly did Chinese food. In front of me Nathan forked at the small bowl of noodles I'd forced him to eat. I sighed.

"I'm assuming he did." I answered. "He's a bit weird."

"Considering that he likes to hit on me whenever he has the chance." He added to my sentence. I smiled.

"You think you can trust him?"

He swallowed what he was eating. "He sounds kinda manipulative. But he seems nice."

I let him eat in silence as I thought to myself for a few minutes. I folded my arms across my chest and leant back into my seat, and I tilted my head up to overhead light that hung cheaply from the damp ceiling. It reminded me of the store Ewan took us into to buy more cigarettes.

_'How often do you smoke?'_

"Didn't he ask that before?" I said in an inaudible breath, so Nathan wouldn't hear.

_What the hell was I doing out here anyway?_

I closed my eyes as I thought deeper.

I had to admit, I needed to get myself down to earth and stop living in a dream. I knew I was swimming in the wrong — Ewan as well — there was nothing good coming from either of us. Even though we currently haven't done anything as bad as we have done in the past. There's still lots reminders. There's so many I've lost count.

_They're coming back, aren't they._

_I know they are._

"I'll just have to be careful." I murmured to myself, unknowingly blinding myself by glaring up at the light. "Hell, I'll be fine. Everything's gonna be fine." I added in a faded, incoherent voice. "I can kill someone if I have to."

I remember what happened back at the orphanage I was sent to. I remember when I ran away for the fourth time, and I wasn't caught out by the police. I met a group of guys in the city, and they offered me a lot of money if I did what they wanted me to do. At first I thought I was going to end up as a prostitute, but it was something just as bad as that. Everything I participated in was a criminal's job, and I did it quite well in fact.

I first started working with a drug dealer, and made money from that before I almost got myself into a black market and was assaulted several times — not badly, at least. It happened once with a middle aged man, and another briefly with a cougar. Hell, I couldn't even recognise the difference between a nightclub and a strip club.

After those incidents, two of the guys I first met decided to teach me a few things on how to 'live' in the city. I valued them, actually. All of them. They helped me out.

Although, a few years after that and once I'd made enough money, I left that city to the one I currently live in now — I should've been glad I'd left. Otherwise I probably wouldn't be here with Nathan.

I'd gotten a call from one of the people I used to work with, saying the guys I knew were dead — apparently all got shot. It shocked me at first, and I didn't feel one emotion that related to sadness at all. I felt nothing. After my mother died — that was it from the beginning. Even though the sisters at the orphanage tried their best with the off-the-rails-boys, nothing improved, or happened.

I'm an accident waiting to happen, in other words.

_Because I was the one who got those people killed._

"Sam."

"I-I'm listening."

"No you're not."

I was too busy thinking I'd noticed I'd gotten seven messages from Ewan, and Nathan was trying to snap me out of my trance. I checked my phone.

_Ewan: Yo I found your condoms._

_Ewan: lmao I know your dick size man._

_Ewan: can I take your spare lighter?_

_Ewan: wtf your fridge isn't fuckin working._

_Ewan: Samuel._

_Ewan: SAMMMMUEELLLLLLL_

_Ewan: YO HAS YOUR LIL KID SUCKED YOU OFF YET??????_

I cringed at the messages, and deleted every one of them, and replied with:

_Me: Go get laid or something, idiot._

I put my phone away, and when I looked up my eyes locked with Nate's. He'd already finished the noodles, and he held a questioning gaze on me.

I stood up and pulled on my jacket. Nathan didn't move but pursed his lips. What he wasn't expecting me to do next was to cup the side of his face and gently force him to tilt his head up. He swallowed.

_I just have to be careful._

"I can keep a secret." I whispered.

_He's_ the one I need to be careful with.

 


	10. Chapter 10

_Sam_

_~_

That night I couldn't sleep.

Nathan had no trouble closing his eyes, and he occasionally turned and rolled. I stared up at the ceiling of the room we were in, and lay there. I avoided my thoughts. Well, I _tried_ to.

I turned my head to see Nathan.

He was laid on his side, away from me. I could see how small he really was from this angle. The collar of his top was slightly stretched, which revealed a little of his skin — along his shoulder, and the upper of his back.

In the poor light of the room which emitted from a small lamp on my bedside table, I edged closer to him. There, I made out three marks on the nape of his neck and right shoulder blade. They were small, rounded and blurred — scars perhaps.

I blinked, and leant forward to get a better look at them. To my horror, I instantly realised what they were, and everything Nate had asked me about cigarettes pieced up like a completed puzzle.

_They were cigarette burns._

Gently and cautiously, I reached out a hand and let the tips of my cold fingers brush across them. I thought about them disappearing whenever I touched them, as if I'd magically smoothed them into the colour of his skin, making them fade instantly. But nothing happened. When I blinked a second time, they were still there. What would get rid of them? — _mentally?_

I swallowed at the thought, but did it anyway. He was sleeping, and I was completely aware of my surroundings.

I quietly turned my head to come in contact with the years-old burns, and gently; ever so gently, I pressed my lips to the first one. Then the second, and then the third.

_Oh, God._

Something momentarily washed over me when I kissed Nathan's skin. I felt suddenly giddy, and I wanted to go further. I wanted to pull away the restricted collar on his top, to innocently touch along his bare body, find the other burns (if there were any) that were hiding away from my eyes, and kiss them away too.

I stopped, forgetting what I was thinking and planning to do.

_He's twelve years old, Sam, get a fucking grip._

I closed my eyes, my lips just parting along his skin, and my tongue was so close to touching—

His body tensed, and I froze.

Panic rushed into my gut, and I held my breath, praying he still had his eyes closed and that he was also still sleeping.

But he wasn't.

"Your lips are cold." Nathan whispered, his voice slightly shaken. "So are your fingers."

"I'm sorry." I murmured. "I couldn't help it."

He didn't answer.

_Great, nice one, you idiot._

"…is that all of them?" I asked.

"No."

I shut my eyes. Then opened them a second later.

"Do you want to see them?" He said.

I opened my mouth to speak, but I couldn't bring myself to even say anything I felt that awkward about what I'd just done.

"No." I finally answered.

"Then go to sleep." He responded.

-

_I don't have enough._

It was the first thing I did when I woke up in the morning; counted the remaining cash I had for travelling, and food for Nathan and I.

"Fuck." I breathed out whilst resting my clenched fists on the table in the tiny kitchen of the room. Nathan was still asleep, considering that it was six in the morning, so I decided to head out and bring some breakfast back for when he woke.

Whilst I went and came back, I debated to myself on whether we should stay in the motel for a couple of days — enough so I could make some money before we left again. The most easiest job I could probably get was to work in one of those nightclubs in the heart of the town, but it wouldn't be my first choice to go there immediately, I might as well look elsewhere before I properly settle down on one.

When I came back to the room, I came to see Nathan awake and alert. He was sat on the bed, his Polaroid camera lodged between his small, doll-like hands. He gave me a look I couldn't quite interpret, but I didn't ask and cut to the chase.

"I'm sorry about last night," I started, setting down the plastic bag of food I'd gotten. I hesitantly met his gaze. "I…didn't know what came over me."

"You're not like other guys." He said, completely dismissing my embarrassment-of-an-apology, and glanced down at the camera.

"…how so…?" I played along, but still kept myself weary on how he could change the subject in a matter of seconds. He gave a shrug.

"You're just…really nice. _Too_ nice." He tensed again. "…I've met other people that aren't able to give what you give. Like an apology for something really small…"

"I felt bad." I cut in, taking the contents out of the bag. It caught his attention. "I felt a bit weird doing it as well. I thought I made you uncomfortable about sleeping with me."

He shook his head. "I like you. I don't care. It felt normal."

_It felt normal?_

Almost instantly, I had the sudden urge to slap him across the face and tell him to shut up and say, 'What the fuck do you know about normality?' But I knew I was thinking selfishly about it. He'd obviously been through a hell of a lot more than me. The cigarette burns were enough to convince my conscience on that.

"But still." I added softly, blinking down at the empty bag.

"Well…it made me happy to know you cared last night." He answered. I looked over to him. "And you still do. I know you do."

I didn't feel embarrassed, but I felt like I was being praised for no reason. To be praised, you needed evidence that you deserved that praise — and I felt like I had no evidence. According to Nathan, he thought I was some amazing guy (I'm really not). But I let him think it anyway.

His expression was too innocent to break.

"Sure." I murmured through a tired sigh, and he smiled, happy.

 

 

 

 


	11. Chapter 11

_Sam_

_~_

"So how long are we gonna stay?" Nathan asked.

"Eat first, then I'll tell you." I responded.

"What if I don't want to?" He answered with half a mouthful. I let out a small chuckle at his comment, and looked up to him from my phone before responding, "I'll make you."

I watched as he licked his lips when he swallowed.

"I was thinking that we should stay for a few days before we set off again. How's that?" I wanted to ignore what he just did. It would've pulled me back into a trance that would result to something I'd regret doing — like what happened last night.

"Sure." Nathan responded, taking a gulp from the bottle of orange juice I had bought earlier. "I think Ewan misses you." He added. I felt the corner of my lip quirk in thought.

"I'm sure he's used to being alone all the time." I said back.

"We'll see him again, right?"

I pushed myself away from the counter side, and slid into the chair opposite him at the circular table.

"It depends," I replied, "If he can find us, we'll see him again."

"What if _we_ find him instead?"

_Ewan would be too good at hiding._

I lied. "We'll still see him."

-

I don't think Nathan really understood the term of 'running away'.

I didn't know whether he had the idea in his head that maybe we would go back one day and things would start over again. Or maybe he just liked imagining things. Maybe he liked to weigh the pros and cons of our chances at getting away until he had nothing left to silently debate over. I couldn't tell. I couldn't read his expressions. He seemed so… _normal_. He had the typical characteristics, I suppose. Cheeky and thoughtful at the same time. He behaved like a real kid would—

_—like a normal, innocent, chaste little boy would._

"Sam."

"Huh?"

"You haven't eaten anything."

"…I'm not hungry."

"You made _me_ eat."

Nathan's tiny, skeletal-like hands gripped onto the curved sides of the table as he leant over it to get closer to me. I hadn't realised how close he was until he almost toppled forward.

"I'm bigger than you." I was hoping that would have shut him up, but it was just a random statement that had no relation to the subject of eating whatsoever.

"I could…" Nathan blinked, lost for words until his mind lit up again, "…try and deck you..?"

-

"Are you cold?"

It seemed normal for me to continuously ask Nathan the same question of concern every twenty minutes or less. He didn't seem bothered by it though.

We were walking through the main street of the town. Compared to what the atmosphere was like last night, it was the complete opposite of lively in the morning. Very few shops were open (most of which were mainly cafes) and the rest were locked up tight with 'closed' signs stuck on the doors. One of the shops we passed had a newly cracked window.

I asked Nathan again when he didn't respond, "Are you cold?"

He hesitated as we stopped walking down the deadened pavement, and lowered his head to the ground, quietly scuffing the soles of his shoes. A minute of silence later, I rolled my eyes and shook off the denim jacket I always wore; tugging him forward so I could help him into it.

"I-I'm not that cold." He murmured, but I ignored his protest and shot back a reply in a gentle manner, patting his shoulders down.

"Yeah. _You're shivering_."

He jabbed me in the side, clearly embarrassed, and I tried not to laugh.

"You're a bit of an idiot for not saying anything, I have to admit," I added, moving an arm to pull him to my side. I smiled. "But you're kinda cute at the same time."

I was expecting a playfully-defensive response, but I didn't get anything like that. He accepted my embrace, and leaned in a little more to me as we walked, and then he spoke in a content tone, "Whatever."

Fifteen minutes later we came across one of the nightclubs. I'd mentally laughed to myself at the sign that was plastered onto the outside of the main door.

_Hiring._

-

Everything suddenly and somehow fell into place then.

I was given a job that I was able to do, and that was it. Apart from the fact I knew fuck-all about cocktails and drinks, only to have the simple knowledge of telling the difference between beer and vodka, I had a strong skill of charisma somewhere inside me — which would come pretty handy in talking to people — customers, in this case. So, I guess I'm more of a part-time waiter than a shitty bartender.

The manager was rather aloof once we stumbled into him, but besides that he'd said I'd earn around a hundred within two or three days. Depending on how busy the club was.

I'd noticed Nathan had tensed up when we were making our way back to the motel, and he'd latched himself to my right hand all the way back there.

I suggested for him to stay in the room when I was there, since my part-time shift would eat into the early morning hours between one and three, so he agreed on my statement.

It all began to unravel in the way I wanted it to.

"You look nice."

"Oh really?"

"Uh-huh."

"What makes you say that?"

"Because…it looks different on you."

I'd taken a quick shower before I went to my first hours, and had gotten changed into the clothes I was given by the manager which was a black shirt and a pair of straight-cut jeans. I figured I'd just wear my own shoes since they kind of blended into the nightly attire. Plus, nobody was really going to be looking at me in a darkened club full of strobing lights and synth music — unless whoever is looking for someone to take to a bedroom.

"Are you gonna leave it open?" Nathan asked from the motel bed. I ran my hands through my damp hair, to make it look a little less untidy.

I turned away from the mirror that was hung on one of the walls on the room, and responded, "Leave what open?"

Nathan rolled over onto his back, my jacket still draped over him (he didn't want to it off ever since we got back).

"Your collar." He indicated my shirt collar. "You'll look more…attractive."

I scoffed and turned back to the mirror. "You find me attractive?"

"You look a lot nicer than other guys I've seen. You've got a nice personality too," he rolled back over onto his stomach. "Didn't you used to get lots of girls tailing you?"

"I don't like girls."

"You like boys?"

"That's…sort of an understatement…"

Nathan went silent, and slowly sat up when I'd turned round to see him.

"I think it's stupid." I said whilst buttoning the open cuffs of the shirt, "You don't really know what you're doing if you start dating someone your own age. Whereas if you date someone that's ten years older than you…" I stopped, in thought, trapped in the weird moment, "…you have a bigger chance of settling down with them, and working together evenly. You help each other. The age gap sorta helps, if you y'know what I mean. The eldest clearly has the upper hand, and the youngest wants to feel protected, so it's fair in a way. That's the point of dating someone older than you."

Nathan's eyes seemed to glow. I was having to get used to how his expression could differ from disinterest to curiosity within seconds.

"You like older guys?" He piped up after a moment. I blinked twice.

"Uh — yeah, I guess."

"How old is Ewan?"

"A few years older than me."

"Do you like him?"

"Do I _what?_ "

Nathan was practically craving the information. There was something pushing him into becoming aggressive in attitude, which indicated that there was something clearly bugging him.

He lacked the empathy we were both apparently creating together.

_It wasn't there._

"Are you sure you're going to be alright?" I ignored what we'd just discussed. The boy nodded, his eyes still fixated on me.

"I'll leave the key with you, in case you need to get out, okay?"

He nodded once more.

"There's a phone there, I'll leave you my number in case—"

" _Sam_."

"What?"

He smiled. "I'll be fine."

I'd later left the motel, in utter doubt, for no reason.

 

 


	12. Chapter 12

_Sam_

_~_

"You new here?"

"I'm only working here for a few days."

"So I've heard."

I should've known there was going to be more than just music, alcohol, and dancing. There was a show of strippers on the front stage.

I couldn't remember how long I had been working behind the bar. I was too deep in thought over what was going to happen after these few days with Nathan. The young woman I was working alongside with seemed different. Sure, it was a stupid statement, but she wasn't like most women I'd met in the place where I was currently living, until Nathan and I decided to get out.

She had short, cleanly-cut blue hair that was styled into a tufty side fringe.

"You taken?" She said, turning her head halfway to see me. She smiled when she spoke. There was something about it, though. She meant her smile as a gesture, not a response like Nathan's. Her right ear was pierced all the way round the shell, a slim little bar going through at the top between the small space.

"Am I what?" I responded, unaware that she'd just asked me a question, and I clearly wasn't listening.

"Are you taken?" She said again. I blinked.

"What? No, um…I'm not."

"Huh." She gave a nod, humming. I frowned to myself, in question, and I thought a little more before speaking.

"I'm not really into girls." I blurted.

She laughed.

I almost dropped the shot glass I was polishing, and I felt my shoulders tense due to slight embarrassment.

"I'm not trying to hit on you," she finally said, chuckling, "You just seem like you would be with someone. You're kinda cute."

I gave a short nod, pursing my lips.

"I've four older brothers back home," She added. "Three have girlfriends and one is already married."

"So…you're assuming I have a girlfriend just because you're able to read off your four brothers?"

She smiled again, "You sure rely on your wits."

"My wits haven't really been much help these days if you ask me."

"How so?"

I set down the glass, and picked up another.

"I've just been having a lot of problems. Nothing big."

She agreed. "Yup. Life's sure a bitch—"

_"Hey Grid!! — we've got four tables waiting over here!!"_

We both looked up across the bar side, to see the manager at the far side of the lively club. He seemed pretty pissed.

The young woman cursed, and reached across me to grab a notepad and pen.

"I'll see you around." She said with another smile, and left.

-

Another few hours had passed, and I was beginning to wonder how the staff in this place got around without being briefly harassed by the drunkards that tended to perk up after they had a few drinks.

It was tiring for sure, I'd established that.

All that time I had been questioning myself. I was thinking about Nathan, and Ewan. They seemed to be the only two things that mattered most to me. I didn't care about anything else, as long as I knew they were both there, I was okay.

Nathan especially.

"I didn't really get to introduce myself back there," The blue-haired girl had came back, and she had at least a dozen of used wine glasses set on a circular tray she was skilfully balancing on the palm of her hand.

"I'm Ingrid — but most of the guys round here call me Grid." She said.

"Sam." I responded.

She ran a hand through her hair, ruffling it with a sigh before filling up a basin of soapy water.

"You said you were only staying here for a few days," She began, "Did you come here alone?"

I shook my head. "A friend was wanting to go the same way as me, so we're both here together."

"Is he in here?"

I chuckled at the thought. I imagined Nathan clinging to my side in a place like this. "He's…a bit too young for drinking."

"Ah, I see. He's a bit like a little brother to you then?"

_A little brother._

I blinked.

_What?_

"Yeah. I guess."

"You don't seem so sure about that."

I looked down at the glass I was polishing. I had cleaned numerous.

"It's complicated." I rephrased.

_Yeah. Complicated._

My body turned numb.

_Wait._

I could feel myself freeze in place.

_He's alone, right now._

_No one is there with him, right now._

I blinked, almost dropping the half-polished glass as my hands frantically tried to untie the black bar apron that was around low at my hips.

Anything could happen to him.

Ingrid didn't say a word as I rushed past her and headed for the staff room, once there grabbing my belongings and burst through the backdoor to the parking lot.

 


	13. Chapter 13

_Sam_

_~_

_This is the worst._

I didn't think twice about leaving the club after I'd mentally seen the bigger picture of leaving a child alone in a motel — anyone could knock the door down and do anything to him.

The ideas that came to my mind made me hate myself even more.

I decided to take a different route back to the motel incase I was stopped for speeding, so I was able to weave my way through the small suburbs and back into the main street once I knew I was coming close to the motel.

I figured I'd only been working for around four hours at least, even though it seemed like nothing when I was talking to that girl. I couldn't even remember what I was doing before I started to help wash up with her.

I almost tripped up the few steps that led up onto the narrow deck, and frantically kept scanning the door numbers until I reached the one that was the most familiar—

I froze.

When I burst through the door, moments later I began to question myself on whether I was just overreacting or just being stupid. Nothing had changed in the motel room. It was just how I had left it. The bed covers were briefly ruffled, showing an obvious sign of use. Nathan's shoes were on the floor, the laces pulled out of their ties.

"Nathan?" I called, slowly stepping into the room. I wasn't convinced that everything was alright, at least not yet.

I searched round the bed, the minuscule kitchen, and the bathroom. There was nothing.

"He's not here." I muttered, panic blooming inside my chest. "He's gone." A lump was beginning to form in my throat, my mouth suddenly running dry at the thought of the boy I had grown close to disappearing from my sight just like _that_ —

"…Sam…?"

I spun round to the open doorway.

Nathan was stood there.

I had imagined him to walk in with cuts and bruises all over his body for some reason, his eyes dull in colour and his figure even more spindly than before. Yet he seemed absolutely fine. Although, there were still the smallest imperfections scattered through his ordinary appearance. A film of sweat was streaked across his forehead, and his eyes glistened. His bottom lip was bleeding due to nervous biting perhaps, but that wasn't the case. Even though his hair was always a mess, something was different about that too.

"Why…are you back so early?" He began. He still stood there, glued in his place at the doorway, his hands hanging loose in his jean pockets.

"I…" why _was_ I back so early? "…It didn't feel right leaving you…here…" the words left my mouth on a bad taste. Something wasn't right. I could practically feel it. It was all around me and my mind. I could feel myself being lied to.

Nathan watched me, blinking.

"Where were you?" I added. He pursed his lips then, avoiding my gaze for that second whilst he swallowed.

"Nowhere." He finally said.

I knew what he had gone and done.

I just didn't want to admit it to myself then make _him_ admit it. It felt unfair for some reason. It felt cold. I wasn't sure whether I was angry or upset about the situation. But I knew one thing for definite — I cared a lot about this kid, and I didn't want anything to happen to him.

What did _he_ think of it though?

"Okay." I hadn't meant for my reply to sound so harsh. I didn't know what think of it, and I couldn't help but spew out all of what I was feeling.

Nathan's eyes changed once he blinked again. He nibbled the inside of his bottom lip.

"…are you going back?"

"No."

"…why not…?"

"What's the fucking point?"

I'd completely silenced him then. When our eyes met I could sense a clear line of understanding _and_ misunderstanding. I couldn't tell which was which. I couldn't tell what was right or wrong.

_I need to get out._

I needed some space now, to think. Just for a little while. Not for long.

I took one more glance around the room, and headed in to the kitchen to find the key to lock the door on my way out. Nathan had moved and retreated to the bed when I came back.

"I thought you said you weren't going." He said.

"I'll be back in an hour. I'm locking the door."

"What if I need to get out?"

"I'll be back before if that happens."

Just as I was on my way out, I stopped, and turned halfway to meet his gaze once more, and spoke, "Take a shower. You're sweating."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	14. Chapter 14

_Sam_

_~_

_"Uh…hello…?"_

"We've a problem."

_"Samuel! How've you been man? How's your kid?"_

"My kid? What? No — he — we—"

_"Whoa, slow down mate. What's happened?"_

I could feel my fingers turn numb as I gripped onto my cellphone. The bitter night air wasn't helping either with what I'd just established.

I had driven my way out of the centre of the city, away from the club, away from the motel, and away from—

_"Sam? You there?"_

—him.

"What? Y-Yeah I'm here."

_"What's eatin' ya now?"_

I was sat on a deadened platform of a train station that was shutdown. The rails were rusted and broken, and greenery had been making its home in the many cracks and crevices.

I sucked in a breath, shuddering in the cold as I closed my eyes. Ewan stayed quiet until I tried to speak.

"I don't think I can do this anymore." I blurted.

_"You what now?"_

"I feel so fucking stupid."

_"Just tell me what the fuck happened."_

I didn't respond.

_"You like him, don't you?"_

I felt my shoulders sink, and the coldness left my body.

"I…I don't know…"

-

When I got back to the motel, I stood at the closed door for about five minutes with my head lowered deep in thought. I felt stupid for not knowing, or just in general not thinking about it. Nathan didn't look like the type to go off and willingly sell himself to a middle-aged stranger. The question was _why_ he went and did it. We agreed on staying here for a bit, to earn some more cash before we headed off again. Maybe he did it to add the money to what we were going to use for traveling?

I shook my head.

_What other reason was there?_

I blinked down at my feet, and looked up to the closed door.

_Though, I have to admit, I wouldn't really have the guts to go and get myself fucked by some guy I would just entice in order to get money from._

I unlocked and opened the door.

When I walked in, I wasn't expecting to find Nathan curled up on the bed with a towel draped over him like a blanket.

I closed the door softly, quietly pulling off my shoes before shaking off my jacket. When I forwarded over to the boy I could make out his peaceful, sleeping face that was tilted to one side. His lips were parted, and his chest was gently rising and falling every few seconds.

I blinked at the sight, and before I could turn away to get changed out of my jeans I noticed how bare he was. I also noticed his damp hair, which meant he took a shower.

_He fell asleep before he could even get some clothes on._

My stomach lurched at the thought.

I swallowed, unsure on whether I should wake him up, leave him the way he was or get him something warmer to cuddle into. But I didn't have to do any of that once he just happened to wake up on his own the moment I was about to touch him.

His tired eyes met mine.

"I'm cold." He whispered.

"You've got no fucking clothes on, that's why." I shot back.

He didn't move, nor responded.

I pulled off my top and jeans, and got into the double bed, quiet as he was, my back facing him. Until he got the urge to finally speak, I felt myself stiffen.

"I'm sorry." Nathan whispered once more. "I should've told you before."

I blinked in the darkness.

"It's not my first, though."

_Of course it isn't._

"…Does it hurt." I said.

"Yeah."

"Then why do you do it?"

"I've other ways of getting money. I don't do _it_ to earn. I do it because it helps me in some places. Mentally."

I wanted to laugh at his comment, but I couldn't, because it felt paining, so I turned round to face him, "How the fuck does _prostitution_ help you?"

He looked up at the ceiling, "Well, it's one way of numbing things you don't want to remember."

_Oh._

I blinked at him, and he looked at me once more. His eyes changed, again. They always changed.

"Don't you do something like that too?"

I thought for a minute.

_You like running away from things._

"I run away a lot." I answered. I could feel my throat run dry. "It helps me to forget things too."

But there's a catch to everything like that, isn't there?

_Your fears are faster than you are._

_They can outrun you any moment._

_And that's when you'll have to face them._

_Again._

"Sam?"

"Hm."

"I'm cold."

His voice was quieter now. It sounded hesitant.

"C'mere." I responded.

Nathan sat up, and from what I could see in the poor light was the towel sliding down his naked body, falling into his lap. He crawled over to me, and I moved over.

I felt him shudder when I slipped my arms around the lower of his back, pulling him closer than he anticipated, our chests pressing together as I embraced him. I felt him warm up to me then. He closed his eyes and leant closer to the crook of my neck, his arms curling round my waist and his hands resting at the lower of my back. His fingers lingered along my skin for a moment, as if familiarising himself in the new position.

He shifted slightly, and I felt his knee unintentionally brush my crotch. When he heard me grunt at the feeling, he uttered, "Sorry."

"Just try and not kick me in the nuts when you're asleep, okay?" I commented, my voice light.

I sensed him smile, "Sure."

 

 


	15. Chapter 15

_Sam_

_~_

_I can't even dream._

I remember falling asleep with Nathan's body pressed close to mine. My insides felt fuzzy and warm when I woke to find myself still glued to him. His face was buried into the crook of my neck, for warmth probably, due to how he was completely naked; not to mention how I was still able to sleep even with knowing he was pressed against me in places I wished he was aware of. Although, feeling him there didn't bother me for some reason. It felt somewhat natural, to be sleeping so close with him, especially like this.

Despite how weird it sounded, I thought nothing sexual of it.

"…Sam…?" Nate's voice then stirred to a wake, and he lifted his head to meet my half-lidded eyes, assuring himself that he was still with me, before snuggling back into my neck. "Can we…stay like this…for a lil while…" He uttered out under his breath, still sleepy. I hummed.

"Sure."

"…You're so warm…" He added, his voice sounding more like a pleasured moan than a sound of yearning, "…but…its not fair…"

_This is probably his equivalent of getting drunk._

I rolled my eyes at the thought before responding quietly to him, "What's not fair…?"

"You…you still have your underwear…on…"

_What now?_

I immediately froze when he mumbled those dreary, incoherent words out in a daze he likely wasn't going to remember later on.

"…So what if do?" I answered back gently.

Nathan shifted, and it wasn't long before I felt his right hand snake its way down across my bare torso, his fingers spreading just above my crotch. I instantly stiffened at the unfamiliar touch, and was about to roll onto my side so he would slide off me, but he spoke too soon to stop my intentions.

"Take them…off." He mumbled, his eyes still shut.

"Nathan, you're literally sleep-talking."  
  
"Take…them off. Now."

"I'm not doing that."

"I…want them off you…"

"Tough luck."

"…please…?"

In that moment I rolled over so he slipped off my chest and onto his back, and as I hovered over him, his tired look faded almost immediately.

_Oh, he really was a little player._

He bit his lip, quiet.

"Sorry, sweetheart." I gently pinched his cheek and drew myself away from him, getting out of bed to take a quick shower.

-

"I want to apologise for doing that."

"Doing what?"

"…the whole…sleeping-nude thing."

I almost choked on the cereal I was trying to eat.

Nathan had mildly protested when I told him to get up and get dressed once the time turned to three in the afternoon. Yes, he woke dreary, but I was sure he decided to have a little playful go at me as we were both laid close together.

"That…didn't really bother me to be honest." I answered, taking a seat at the small table in the kitchen. Nathan leant in against the doorframe as he watched me carefully.

"It didn't?" He said. I gave a shrug.

"You wouldn't mind if I did that again?" He added.

"So you purposely 'forgot' to put clothes on when you got out of the shower?"

He laughed then. He hid behind the frame, just a little so I could only see half of his face, whilst experiencing the light embarrassment of my comment, giggling.

"Just for you." He said jokingly.

"I sure heard a moan this morning too." I added, making him smile.

"Well…you're one of few to hear that."

_Huh?_

My humour fled away from me when I latched onto the subject he was foreshadowing. What was he wanting me to know? Was he trying to get something across to me?

"Nathan…" I started, blinking to myself before looking back to him. "…since we're here together, can we make an agreement?"

He hesitated at first, but nodded after a moment. He was still half-hiding behind the doorframe.

"Since I'm older than you, I'm the one who'll cover the expenses. Okay? You just have to behave yourself and don't go and do something stupid." His lip quirked in slight agreement. My mind then started throwing random images at me of the sweat-stricken boy that had just sold himself to a stranger for an hour or more. I mentally grimaced at the thought before speaking, "I…don't want to see you like that. Again."

He swallowed, but wasn't at all nervous to talk back, "Are you sure?"

I stopped for a moment to think. I mentally tried to get round to where he was thinking. I was trying to understand him.

"Yeah." I answered, holding our gaze.

He was still half-hiding. He bit his bottom lip, almost smiling to himself as he lowered his head to the floor before looking back up, his voice soft and numb in my mind when he spoke, so close to speaking in a whisper, "You always look at me like that."

"What…?" I responded, slightly confused. Nathan came out from behind the doorframe, and wandered over to where I was sat. He leant across the table, cocking his head to one side as our noses became inches apart from touching.

"You have that look all guys have." He said. "The look when you want it badly. You've waited a long time to get it…" He leant closer, his voice becoming soft, and ever so slightly husky. He was still a boy, after all. "…but you're restraining yourself. You want to be good. You don't want to do it—" he paused as he watched me with unamused, half-lidded eyes, "—just yet."

 

 


	16. Chapter 16

_Sam_

_~_

What the hell was _that_ supposed to mean?

I didn't say anything back to Nathan. I knew it was better if I just stayed quiet, I wouldn't aggravate him anymore about it, and he would stop toying with me in return.

Nathan pulled away from me, his deep, glittering, glassy eyes lingering on my gaze a moment more before he left the tiny kitchen.

Slowly, I began to think again. I leant back in my seat, and sucked in a deep breath before sighing.

"What's his point." I uttered under my breath.

Does he want something?

_You should ask him._

That'd just be weird.

_Ah. Yeah. Touché._

I shook my head.

"Oh, I forgot something." I heard Nate call from the bedroom, and he wandered back into the kitchen, holding up something in his right hand. He set fifty quid down onto the table, following some coins. I leant forward to see.

_He really went and did that, didn't he._

I swallowed inaudibly, and glanced up at him.

"Don't do that again." I said. He just looked at me.

"Sure."

"Nathan, I'm being serious—"

"I won't." He repeated, cutting me off. He stared at me for a moment, his expression changing to assure me. "I won't do it again."

"But take it, at least," he added quietly, indicating the money, "It might come in handy."

With that he looked at me, and left me once more before wandering off into the other room.

-

When I went back to the club, halfway whilst driving there on my bike I realised things probably weren't going to be easy to handle; on my first day of working, I left several hours early, and never came back until the day after — the manager was going to be really pissed.

I worried myself into a state of mild unconsciousness once I got there. I could feel myself break away from reality for a little while before I came across that blue haired girl from before — Ingrid.

"Hey, uh — I got you covered," she began with that smile, "I spoke to the manager. I sugarcoated the whole thing about you leaving on the first night, he's fine."

I blinked twice, almost yawning in her face when I noticed how close we both were, and I took a step back as I felt my personal awareness seep back into my mind.

"What, really?" I responded. She nodded.

"…uh…thanks. Thanks." I could feel myself lose it again before she chuckled at my reaction. "Thank you." I finally blurted out. "Really, it means a lot, I appreciate it."

"We all have problems to deal with, right?" She smiled again. I agreed.

"Yeah. We do."

-

Nathan was asleep by the time I got back.

Thankfully, he had clothes on this time, so that eased off some tension that was beginning to settle in on my shoulders. However, they weren't _his_ clothes.

The top he was wearing, in fact, belonged to me.

It was one of my old, thin, raglan tops that had the original red sleeves and whitish front with sometimes a small, briefly stitched V in the centre of where your collar bone was. It was a little big on him, I'd noticed. The collar was slightly wide, and the sleeves hung over his pale knuckles. I couldn't tell if he was wearing underwear or not due to the bedsheets.

Silently, I took off my shoes and everything else, headed to the bathroom, and afterwards got into the bed.

It was quiet.

It took me a minute or more to establish that I wasn't fully exhausted yet after working, my energy was still burning its last. So, I slowly turned over onto my other side to meet the boy's back. I blinked in the poor light, remembering when I had 'kissed' away his cigarette burns. In my head, I imagined him to be perfect. No burns, no scars, no bruises, no nothing. He was clean and pure. Like a child. Like a real little boy with a normal life — but just happened to follow the wrong path, and he is beginning to lose that normality, the purity, the cleanliness — and he's getting the scars and burns and bruises in return for losing the good things.

In my head, it was all very hectic.

Whereas — in reality, it was actually very simple.

Nathan was meant to be like this.

_Ewan_ was meant to be like this.

_I_ was meant to be like this.

It was _normal_ —

My train of thought jarred to a stop when Nathah jolted upright in the bed, panting. I reached out to him, my fingers brushing the side of his left arm, and his head snapped in my direction, his eyes sharp with fear. But they instantly softened the second they realised who was trying to comfort him.

"Are you okay?" I whispered. Nathan swallowed, breathing in and out steadily.

"No." He answered in a hesitant voice.

"What was it?" I whispered again.

He stared down aimlessly at his thighs, his lips parted.

"It…wasn't nice." He responded carefully. "I…I felt…something…" he added, "…right—" his face formed into a frown as he reached to feel the back of his neck, and his eyes widened as he froze in place, "— _here_."

His fingers were resting over the cigarette burns.

He stared at nothing for at least a minute. His face fell due to what he'd just figured or thought of. I didn't say anything, but watched him until he made a slight movement.

He shifted.

"Nathan." I said softly, reaching a hand out to get his attention, but he immediately pulled away with no reply, and quickly lay back down — his back facing me.

Confused, I blinked, and asked again, "Are you alright?"

"No." He whispered.

A moment later Nathan sat up again, only to pull off my top he was wearing and lay back down again. With his sudden movements the duvet was now sprawled along him.

"Kiss me." He said.

I felt my body turn numb.

"Kiss me." He said again.

"What?" I responded.

"The burns." His voice sounded uneven. Hesitant. Shy. "Kiss them again. Like you did last time."

I slid closer to him, so I could whisper into his ear, "I'm assuming there's more?"

"If you were one of those men I fuck once in awhile you'd know where they are."

"You shouldn't be telling me things like that, Nathan."

"Just do what I asked. Please."

The idea sent my nerves into a tangle that wouldn't stop agitating me from the inside. I knew I shouldn't have been feeling like that when I smoothed one palm down his bare shoulder, my fingers itching to slide down his arm and melt onto his slim little waist and explore further past his doll-like boney hips—

_Stop._

I restricted myself the moment I thought of it.

I swallowed down the obscene concept my mind had just conjured up, and slowly shifted myself across to him. I gently draped one arm over his waist; my fingers happening to catch his own, and they intertwined together. I could smell his scent when I neared the nape of his neck — a boyish, cottony, _distinct_ sort of aroma was threaded into his skin. My dry lips grazed over one of the faded burns, and I could feel his body tense when I breathed over him. I pressed myself against his back, feeling him shudder, and as my lips parted over one of the marks, I felt my insides plummet.

_Shit._

Hell, I thought of a lot of things in that one second.

Nathan was the centre of all the ideas I'd put together. I could feel him close, so close — I could feel his erratic little heartbeat; like a newborn lamb's, his frail breathing, his puerile tone and immature voice and everything else on top of that — I could feel his skin under my fingers, I could feel his movement. If I tried harder, if my thoughts ventured further and deeper into this wicked abstraction I would be able to hear him scream and writhe under my control, he would beg, close his eyes and cry out in a tear-stricken guilty pleasure my sub-conscience was solely creating in the back of my mind. Under a single command, and a single, loving touch, when I added it up, all of it meant absolutely _nothing_ —

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	17. Chapter 17

_Sam_

_~_

"…Sam?"  
  
"W-What?"

I hadn't noticed how suddenly tired I had became, and I realised that the daydream I had just experienced wasn't a daydream at all — I was falling asleep in mere thought.

" _Sam_." Nathan was turned to me now. I could wearily make out him looming over me, his eyes wide and glittery like they always were.

"Hm?" I hummed out, blinking a few times.

"You're falling asleep."

"I know I am."

"Your eyes are closed."

"I know they are."

Nathan sat back on his heels. He reminded me of young child that was wide awake and wasn't ready to go to bed — whilst prodding the eldest to get up and do something about it. I mentally smiled at the thought, sleepy.

"If…only it was… _that_ … _easy_ …" I cringed once my voice automatically spoke my thought aloud, and Nathan immediately picked up on it.

"What is?" He asked, leaning down to me, his face close and curious. "Sam? Wake up — Sam. Sammy?"

I used the last of my awareness and energy to reach out and pull him close, muttering into his ear as my arms enveloped him, "Go to _sleep_."

-

When I woke up, the first thing I felt was an urge to go to the bathroom.

I didn't bother rolling over to see if Nathan was still asleep, so I stumbled out of the bed and wearily made my way to where my body was telling me to go, pushing the door open to see Nathan sat up on the sink side. He was in the middle of drying his damp hair with a towel when I'd caught sight of him, and he blinked when he saw me — perfectly fine with the fact that I could see him stark naked. He was sat like the typical woman; one leg crossed over the other, his knee just blocking the view of his crotch from my angle, making me want to pounce on him for no reason. If I was that ignorant, I would've stood there and gawped at him and his body, but I let out a noise of embarrassment and slammed the door shut, in attempt to send an awkward apology.

I closed my eyes and covered my face as I blindly wandered back to the bed, flopping down on to it with a grunt followed by a harsh curse. The image of Nathan was practically printed into my mind, my sub-conscious screaming at it as well as screaming at me for walking in on the boy.

" _Fuck_." I uttered under my breath, pressing a palm to my forehead as I glared at the ceiling.

_I can't believe I just did that._

_I want to fucking die._

I wished the bed would have swallowed me up in that moment. The thought was beginning to sicken me with the blooming embarrassment that lurked in the pit of my stomach, my heart racing and my nerves tingling — which then led on to making my whole body tremble for a minute or two.

I heard the bathroom door click open.

Immediately, my eyes flew open and I jolted upwards and swallowed the dryness in my throat.

Nathan wandered round the corner, his steps almost playful as he hung the small towel round the back of his neck. Thankfully, to save me from cringing even more, he'd put on something to wear — but my embarrassment still surfaced the moment I realised that he was wearing one of my tops. Again.

I mean, at least it was big enough so it covered his—

"Y'know, I have a dick." Nathan blurted. "You have a dick too."

I frowned, confused.

"I don't get why you're blushing." He added.

My sub-conscious tried to bury himself into the ground.

I bit the inside of my lip, already feeling my cheeks redden.

_You're fucking blushing, Sam. Stop it._

"I…figured you might've…wanted…some privacy…?" I responded, my voice unknowingly sounding vague as I spoke.

"Okay," He responded, leaning against the wall opposite me, folding his thin arms across his chest. "If I…told you to strip right now in front of me, would you do it?"

"Why would I strip?" I answered back.

"Because you know you'll get something in return."

"What would that be exactly?"

Nathan didn't respond, but only looked me dead in the eye for those last moments until I couldn't bare his little stare of almost… _sexual_ tension. It was sending me crazy.

I glanced at him once more, feeling somewhat awkward, "…why…are you wearing…my…"

He blinked, and looked down to the top he was wearing. "Your clothes are warmer."

"I figured." I added flatly.

He stuck out his tongue at me as he pushed himself away from the wall, discreetly and naturally reaching out a light hand to brush his fingers along up my exposed forearm as he walked to the other side of the bed — and that's when it snapped inside me. I could feel my inner demons wanting to play. They were wanting toy with something; like how a cat would play with a mouse until it was left in bloody little shreds. I wanted to play a little like that. I wanted to pull him back to me, I wanted him to slide on to my lap and hang his delicate doll-like arms loosely round my neck — I wanted him to smile sheepishly, to tilt his head at me in shyness — the concept felt so innocent in my head, but when I thought through it a bit more, I could feel the fright of reality bubble in the pit of my stomach.

_I wonder what would happen?_

"Sam?"

During those few twenty seconds, Nathan had crawled up behind me, his chin resting at my right shoulder.

I tensed. "What?"

He didn't answer for a minute, "Nothing."

_You little player._

 

 


	18. Chapter 18

_Sam_

_~_

We hadn't planned to stay another few extra days.

Thankfully, things turned out pretty well, and we ended up with more than enough money to get through the next few places — wherever that was going to be — we were just wanting to get away to somewhere that didn't seem to exist at all.

It was fun, to think that this 'place' was actually real.

During the evening before we were planning to leave in the morning, Nathan seemed slightly fidgety for whatever reason.

I'd noticed he had been laid on his back for more than an hour or so, on one side of the double bed. He was staring at the ceiling, swallowing every now and then.

I continued to look up from my book every couple of minutes to see if he was alright. The next time I checked on him, he shifted in his place. He was idly tracing patterns on his chest, and soon, probably unaware of how he was feeling, his hand had wandered down above his crotch. He blinked at the ceiling, and I watched as his little fingers felt the exposed skin between the hem of his top and the waistband of his jeans, and ever so slowly, hesitantly, almost _innocently_ , his delicate fingers slipped into the front of his fly.

"Nathan." Once I spoke he immediately snapped out of his daze, and he pulled his hand away from the front of his jeans, obviously embarrassed, but seemed like he didn't give a shit about me seeing him do that at the same time.

"Are you okay?" I added quietly. He blinked once, and was about to respond back, but I could see his body tense; meaning that something was wrong. He made a soft, uncomfortable kind of noise when he forced himself to sit up, and he pursed his lips tight. He brought a hand to press at his stomach, and he swallowed, glancing in my direction.

Just as I was about to question him again, all of a sudden his eyes widened and he slapped one hand over his mouth and darted for the bathroom, and I soon heard him throw up.

-

"Nathan."

_"I'm fine. Go away."_

"Your face was pale."

Nathan had shut the bathroom door on me when I tried to ask him what was wrong, and why he felt sick. When he told me to fuck off, I didn't think twice about deciding to force the door open to find him huddled in the empty bathtub. I wanted to make sure he was alright.

"Sorry." He mumbled a few minutes later.

"It's okay." I responded quietly from the doorway.

"I feel sick."

"I figured."

"Not just _there_."

"Where else then?"

"When I was four, my foster mother gave me to her boyfriend." He said. I bit the inside of my lip at the thought, and pushed myself away from the doorway to sit down at the edge of the bath.

"She said she was sick." He continued, "And he said he was happy to have me for awhile." Nathan slouched and leant his head back. "He said I wasn't behaving." He rubbed his arms.

"He liked me a lot. He didn't go all the way though. I was too young to understand any of it. Y'know when you're _that_ young," he paused, "People say you're able to absorb more than you can when you get older."

I swallowed. "That's sounds about right."

"He thought it was a good idea to smoke when he had me sleeping with him one night."

_That explains it all then._

"Is that…how you…" I trailed off when I saw him staring at me.

"He only gave me one. The rest were done by other people."

_Other people._

"If you had me in a place where you could do anything to me, what would you do?" He said.

_A lot of things._

"I'd let you go." I forced out.

"Liar."

"I covered that one up pretty badly. Sorry."

"So you're like him too?"

"Nathan, shut the fuck up. I'm not like that. You should know by now I'm not like that."

Nathan chewed on his bottom lip in thought.

I wasn't surprised. I knew I wasn't. I never _was_ going to be surprised anymore. I had seen it all my life. I knew a 'good boy' when I saw one — but him? Nathan sure behaved like a child (if he wanted to), but naturally, he had a mature mind — a rather playful one in this case. I had briefly started to wonder what he was like with others.

"Sam?"

I looked over at him.

"What?"

He tried not to grin.

"Wanna take a bath together?"

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	19. Chapter 19

_Sam_

_~_

The bath was quite small even for fitting one person never mind two. But Nathan was playfully insistent on the whole thing, so I was kind of 'silently bullied' into agreeing to bathe with him. It didn't really bother me. I was completely fine with it — sure, he slept naked against me once, so taking a bath together shouldn't be any different.

_Right?_

"You get in first."

When I had first started to fill the bath with warm water, Nathan had poked me in the side and slipped his little arms around my waist saying, 'I want it to be deep.' Of course, being a guy I thought he was talking about something else and I became utterly puzzled for a moment or so before I realised he was talking about the bath and not the topic of sex — not that he hasn't ever  _referred_ to it before. I was mentally prepared for this.

"…Don't you want to get in first?" I answered back. Nathan shook his head.

"You're bigger than me."

_Height or size?_

_Oh, shut up._

I could feel my cheeks turn pink at the thought, but I tried to shake the feeling off and started to take off my clothes.

Nathan slouched behind the sink side, watching me from my left. He had his head tilted to one side.

"You work out?" He asked softly once he caught sight of my bare abdomen. I set my top aside and glanced at him.

"I used to swim a lot."

"For how long?"

"Until I was around…sixteen…I think."

I thought I would have been the most self-conscious one as I was firstly stripping in front of him, but I could see him squirm even more when I started to pull off my jeans and underwear.

I didn't turn to see his face when I got into the bath, sinking down until the water reached my chest midway. I averted my gaze when he stripped down and slipped into the water closely opposite me as I figured he might've wanted a little privacy as he seemed a bit jittery.

Unlike me, the water reached up and over his slim, feminine shoulders. He kept his knees pressed together whereas I had mine open; my feet touching the end of the bath, close to his hips.

"I'm guessing…you had an idea in mind…?" I started, breaking the semi-awkward silence. Nathan shook his head, his eyes warmly darkening at me.

"An idea is an understatement." He said. "I thought it might bring us closer."

_We've been sleeping like lovers every night, isn't that enough?_

"Are you just wanting to see me like this?"

He tried not to smile. "You've seen _me_ like this. It's not fair."

I leant back in the water with a sigh, closing my eyes. "Nothing's fair."

Under the water, I could feel Nathan's legs brush against mine, and his toes gently tickled my inner thighs as he stretched out his limbs in the tub. I lifted my head to see him; he was still watching me. Although, his eyes had changed again. I couldn't tell what he was feeling or thinking. His face was calm and collected.

After a minute he slipped his head under the water, the last thing I was seeing was his eyes closing and his lips pursing into a thin line. I could see the bubbles he was making on the surface as he stayed there for a few seconds before stopping to come up. He slicked back his wet hair, and he rubbed the water away from his eyes.

"Remember you said…you wanted to draw the constellations in the sky. Make them real — how would you do it?" I asked quietly. Nathan blinked.

"I don't know." He whispered. "How would you do it?"

I sat up in the water, "I wouldn't use a white pencil," he smiled at that, "I'd use memories and what I think makes me happy."

"There's not many things that make me happy." He said.

I leant forward, reaching out to take his arms, to pull him close, and whispered in a somewhat husky voice, "I've seen you smile and laugh all the time. So _something_ must be making you happy, right?"

Our eyes met.

"Do _I_ make you happy?" I finally said. Nathan moved his arms to hang round my neck, and he pressed his knees to his chest as I pulled us closer together.

"Hm." He hummed inaudibly, resting his forehead at my collarbone.

"Is that yes?"

"I'll let you think on that one."

"You're too embarrassed to admit it, aren't you."

"Shut up."

I was grinning now, "So you are?"

He started to shy away, but he couldn't help but let out a few chuckles at my prodding, " _Sam_." He warned playfully.

"You're going all moody on me now."

"I'm _not_."

"Then what's with the blushing and the—"

In that instant I felt a hard splash of water hit me in the face.

-

After my little teasing argument Nathan had gotten back at me with starting a brief water fight, resulting in me slipping on the floor and somehow — out of _nowhere_ — breaking the one mirror in the bathroom. At first I was literally shitting myself at what had just happened, but once I saw Nate crying his eyes out with laughter, I only smiled because I knew he was genuinely feeling happy, and he didn't look like he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders all the time.

"I'm still trying to figure out how I broke the _one_ fucking mirror." I said suddenly, breaking the once-sleepy silence, earning a giggle from Nathan. He rolled over onto his side to face me, a grin plastered on to his face. The bedside lamp was still on, giving us some warm light to see each other better.

"You almost pulled down the shower curtain too." He added. I blinked tiredly.

"Yeah. I did."

"We should do that again some time."

"What, slip and break a mirror?"

He giggled again. "No, stupid," he shuffled closer, and he turned over onto his stomach to prop himself up. "We should do more fun things. We should bring Ewan along too. He'd like that, right?"

I snorted. "He'd probably try to hit on you if we brought him along with us."

"So? I'll just say I'm taken."

"By who?"

"You."

I felt my body stiffen.

I tended to procrastinate a lot, let's just say. I ignored the things I didn't like, and accepted the things I felt fine with. It wasn't that I didn't _like_ his suggestion, it was the fact that…

God, I don't know. I have no idea.

I swallowed. I swallowed my thoughts away.

"Sam?"

I turned my head to meet his gaze, and it took me a moment to think back to what we were discussing. Once it came to me, I nodded, "Yeah. He'd like that."

Nathan smiled again, "I bet he's missed you."

I turned to look back up at the ceiling, "Hm." I stopped, and blinked, and rephrased my wording, "Yeah. I think you're right."

"Would we ever go back to see him?"

"We can give him a call and see where he is." I sat up and reached for the bedside lamp, and switched it off before rolling over again to him.

"When?" Nathan added, curious and inquiring.

But he soon calmly stopped his chatter once I pulled the bedsheets over us both, and wrapped one protective arm around his frail body, and whispered gently into the darkness of the room, _"Once the sun comes up."_

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	20. Chapter 20

_Sam_

_~_

I could feel a lot of things.

I knew Nathan was against me. I could feel his body, and everything about him. He had his head tilted to one side, his top pushed up his chest. I could make out his flat abdomen, and his boney hips — but I couldn't see anything past that.

Yet I could somehow _feel_ it.

The boy looked at me with his blameless little eyes.

Oh, those eyes.

Those eyes _really_ fucked around with my head.

His dainty fingers reached up to trail along my chest, his nails marking my skin ever so softly, and when I found myself on top of him with our lips locked, and his naked legs restricting me to move away from his open thighs, I noticed our physical contact felt fuzzy. It felt too unreal. Too _dreamlike_.

Oh.

I blinked twice.

I blinked again.

I blinked once more.

_Did I just dream of fucking a twelve-year-old?_

I blinked for the fourth time.

_I guess I did._

"Shit…" I uttered, but the word came out in a groan instead of a tired, dry voice. My head was pounding, and I was sweating. It was still dark in the room, and I couldn't make out any blurred, disoriented daylight from the only window in the room, so I must've woken up through the night or early hours of morning. Besides the time, Nathan was still fast asleep, which gave me a hint anyway. His back was facing me yet again — I'd figured that when we went to sleep we tended to cuddle with each other for an hour or so, and then, one of us would roll away for space to stretch out of the position, and that would typically be him. I usually stayed in one place and wasn't easily disrupted by things.

Groggily, I got up and blindly made my way to the bathroom. I fumbled to find the light switch, and once I did I hissed out a curse at the bright light that shone in front of my eyes. I blinked a couple of times, squinting so I could get used to the sight, and forwarded over to the sink, turned on the cold water tap, and splashed my face to rid the sweat and weariness.

I closed my eyes and saw Nathan in front of me.

_'You have that look all guys have.'_

_'I don't.'_

I could feel my sub-conscious fight. He felt weak. He felt tired. He couldn't think properly.

_'You've waited a long time.' Nathan whispered. 'And I'm here,' he paused, 'If you want—_

He never said that.

Nathan _never_ said that.

He _never_ offered himself like _that_.

He never even _did_ that.

I shut my eyes tight once more and muttered under my breath, cursing and telling myself to stop it, but I didn't know _how_ — all of these images and thoughts kept flooding into my head, and everything ended up to be related to him and nothing else.

" _Breathe_." My voice whispered, and I looked up.

_Who is this boy I now come to see?_

The mirror I had cracked earlier brought a small spark to my mind, sending a little jolt of nostalgia to my chest, but it faded just as quick as it had happened. When I saw myself there; my reflection felt strange. Come to think of it, I hadn't seen myself in a mirror for quite some time, ever since we left. Now, stood in a bathroom completely disturbed by a series of mere thoughts, seeing myself in a mirror that made my appearance seem almost abstract, I felt enigmatically drawn to something I couldn't quite understand.

My heartbeat wouldn't return to its normal pace.

Butterflies wasn't the word for what I was feeling, it was something deeper than that, like kisses being perfectly placed inside the pit of your stomach. It was a rather defined sort of feeling. It had a strong sort of urge to it. I needed something to cure it.

_But what?_

"Breathe." I whispered again, even quieter this time as I stared at myself once more. I brought a hesitant hand to touch at my bare chest, and I slowly moved it downwards, just idly — and, as I thought of him for the billionth time, I happened to catch sight of his frail little figure reflecting itself like a glitchy screen in the mirror.

I spun round to see the boy stood in the open doorway.

He blinked tiredly at me.

"Why are you up?" I began.

"You were being too loud."

"What do you mean…?"

"You were talking too loud."

"I…was?"

Nathan moved aimlessly towards me, his face tired and somewhat attractive at the same time. His eyes were hooded, which shaded the glittering colour of his irises. He slipped his arms round my bare waist, and hugged me from the side, so we could see each other in the cracked mirror.

He sent a drowsy smile at me.

"You say I'm not allowed to touch myself?" He challenged lightly. I smirked, and pulled him closer to my side, still looking at him in the mirror.

"Were you thinking of jerking yourself off whilst I was there in front of you?" I responded with a glance. He looked up at me with a grin.

"Maybe."

"Go back to sleep."

Before he moved away from me again, he wanted to whisper something to me; instinctively I leant down so he could reach, but what I received was something that sent me into a different state of mind — _and it felt nice._

He pressed his lips to the right side of my cheek before darting back into the dark bedroom, leaving me somewhat shocked.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	21. Chapter 21

_•_

_•_

_•_

_•_

_•_

_"Hello?"_

"Hi."

_"Nathan! How's your boyfriend holding up?"_

"He's missed you. But he's fine."

_"You're the only thing he thinks about, y'know."_

-

_Sam_

_~_

We left at nine in the morning.

The road was silent as we drove along it. There were no cars or any sign of movement apart from us. The buildings that were once there had flattened out into small, skinny terraced houses, and soon, those houses disappeared into abandoned shacks, and then — after another few miles, there was nothing except dusty plains made up of hard earth and weeds.

The sky seemed ill. The clouds had blocked the sun out, and daylight felt limited to some extent, even though it was all around us.

" _Sam_."

I immediately pulled over the second I felt Nathan squeeze me round my waist, and whispered incredibly close to my ear. I turned my head halfway to ask what was wrong, and he shushed me before directing my sight to the left side of the small road.

"She's been there for quite some time now." Nathan spoke almost inaudibly.

There, a good distance away from us, stood a doe.

She had her head turned to us, her posture frozen in time, and she rarely blinked. Her eyes caught my attention.

Nathan quietly clambered off behind me, kneeling down onto the ground to pull off his rucksack and slowly unzipped it, and carefully took out his camera.

I turned off the bike engine, and slid my hands into my jacket pockets, leaning back slightly whilst I watched him.

_You couldn't do without him, could you._

_He's precious to you, isn't he._

_Don't lie to yourself, sweetheart._

I bit the inside of my lip as my eyes trailed down Nathan. He was taking gentle, quiet steps towards the doe that was still stood before us both. She blinked her deep, milky eyes, her nose twitched slightly, and her ears flicked back and forth, just once.

_It's like kisses, isn't it._

_Wings beating against you._

_Punching you with sickly emotion._

_You can feel it inside you._

_It won't leave. And it's not going to. Ever._

My thoughts were beginning to mentally unclothe the boy in front of me. I swallowed as I felt the images come back. I could see them behind my eyes. I could make out every detail.

A flash emitted from Nathan's camera, and the doe sprung away almost immediately, which pulled me out from my mildly-erotic daydream.

"Look!" He exclaimed, coming up close beside me, tugging my arm. I smiled, and peered over his shoulder to see the developing photo he held. With the flash on the camera, the doe's eyes shone brightly, and it's nose glowed ever so slightly. The shot was somewhat blurred, probably because of how the animal made a quick move a millisecond before it sensed the shuttering sound, but it still had a nice sense and vibe to it. I would've considered it to be a little eerie, but the first word that came to my mind to describe it was rather nostalgic.

"It's cute." I uttered gently in his ear, and he turned his head to me with a childish smile, our noses inches away from touching. He blinked at me, and his lips parted.

_You want to kiss him, don't you._

But there aren't any cigarette burns.

_Although, you'll find them elsewhere, right?_

It felt like a sin. My head was against me, but my gut wasn't. I wanted it. A lot. It would ease the pain — wherever I was feeling it.

_Kissing him would make me feel pure again._

Nathan gently smoothed the face of his thumb across my cheek as he innocently cupped the side of my face. I could see his eyes dart to my lips, and he blinked, looking back to where I held our gaze.

"How many girls have you dated?"

I had to smile at his question. I couldn't resist grinning at him, knowing he wasn't interested at all in knowing how many girls I'd been with — sure, maybe he did, but I knew he was looking for something else _other_ than that — _how many girls have I had sex with?_

I hummed, letting my eyes glance upwards, to the sky, before going back to him.

"I've dated a few." I answered. "It was a long time ago."

"How many guys?"

I thought for a moment.

_There wasn't many._

I hesitated. "Not a lot."

"What was your youngest?"

"My age or theirs?"

"Both."

"I was…probably around seventeen? They were fifteen."

Nathan blinked. "What was your oldest?"

I hesitated again, trying to remember, but not wanting to remember at the same time, "Thirty-six."

"Did you like it."

_You were barely thirteen at the time, weren't you._

I swallowed, and forced out, "No."

I knew he immediately saw the regret file into my expression, as well as the slight shame and anxiety. He didn't say anything else though. He only tilted his head to the side, still looking, and then, out of nowhere, leant up and kissed me lightly on the cheek.

"Mines forty-five." He said.

"What's your youngest?" I responded.

"Currently twenty-three."

_Currently?_

His eyes sparkled, and I knew.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	22. Chapter 22

_Sam_

_~_

"Oh _wow_."

We had taken a small stop again.

We weren't surrounded by dead land anymore. We were surrounded by trees now. The land had evened out into soft mounds of earth and dark greenery, trees beginning to sprout here and there. It was starting to feel less empty.

"It's pretty." Nathan said his thought aloud, and I grunted softly, flexing my shoulders as he climbed off the back of the bike. I leant back slightly, still sat there, and slipped my hands into the pockets of my jacket. He glanced around at our new surroundings.

"Y'like forests?" I said. Nathan met my gaze, and gave a small shrug and a boyish half-smile.

"I think they're calming." He replied, "I like getting lost in them."

"That's a little dark." I muttered. He rubbed the back of his neck, sheepish. I noticed how he was wandering back a little — away from the bike and I. He scuffed the soles of his shoes against the grey, cracked concrete.

"Wanna play a game?" He suggested then, still trying to contain his smile. It reminded me of the bath we took together.

"Shouldn't we be heading off?" I added, keeping the question in my tone. He blinked.

"Let's play hide and seek."

I rolled my eyes, "Nathan, c'mon."

"I'll be nice, and I'll let you find me."

I was assuming that he was just joking, but when I saw him edge for the side of the surrounded road; leading to one part of the forest, I climbed off the bike.  
  
"Kid, get your ass back here." I said, forcing a small smirk, but I felt myself fail when he shook his head with a grin — and out of nowhere made a break for it.

" _Nathan!_ "

I didn't have time to debate to myself, but my instincts gave me the answer. I fumbled to get the kickstand down on my bike before running after him, but stopped when I heard the most familiar, and the most smallest of sounds.

Beneath my right foot, something rolled and faintly chimed as it made friction with the ground. Slowly, I shuffled, and with a gulp of realisation I came to see what it was.

_A used bullet shell._

Within a few seconds I had tried to think of what it was used for, what gun it would have been matched to, and I vaguely figured it must've been used in a shotgun.

_Shotguns are used for hunting, aren't they._

We're lodged in the middle of endless acres of wood.

Nathan is hidden in there somewhere.

_Alone._

-

"Nathan? It's been at least an hour now!"

I was beginning to think I was going crazy just searching for the kid. Talking to myself was enough to tell me I was already losing it, but now I was just about done with his little game.

My feet felt numb, and for a moment, I completely forgot what way I had came from the empty road. I ran both my hands through my hair, sat down on a nearby fallen tree trunk, and closed my eyes.

I was sure he had been following me all the way to where I was now.

_Was he keeping me company all throughout that hour?_

" _Fuck_." I breathed out.

Over the past few days, I haven't been able to dream.

Not that I always dreamt, I usually fell asleep in a matter of a seconds depending on how tired I was after driving. Nathan didn't like to play about when he knew I was tired. He wouldn't talk much either. I hadn't snapped at him at all through our time together, come to think of it, ever since day one — when we met in the park with Ewan.

I could tell Nathan was keeping quite a few things locked up inside him.

His face would sometimes change then and again. His eyes would glaze over, as if he were about to cry, and sometimes he would grind his teeth very hard. I had once told him to stop, otherwise he might have even chipped his teeth if he kept going at it.

I wasn't sure why he occasionally decided to go off on one. Maybe that was his equivalent of me being exhausted.

"Nathan?" I called out once more.

My voice was on the verge of giving up completely, and I sighed inwardly, lowering my head to look down at the soft earth. The tips of my worn-grey converse were covered in a brief sheet of mud and muck.

I closed my eyes, and saw him in front of me.

Although, he was beneath me.

He was _laid_ beneath me.

His arms were wrapped round the lower of my back. His eyes — his eyes were different. They were wanting something. They were after something they desperately needed, like a _release_ of some sort. His thighs were spread, and I knew I was between them—

_Oh, shit._

I shook my head.

_Sam._

I rubbed both my eyes, ridding away the lewd image.

_Stop._

"I really can't." My voice was barely a whisper when I tried to laugh to myself, but I couldn't. I felt too ashamed about it. Was I being too hard on myself? Maybe not, but in my head, if felt terrible to be thinking of something like that, yet my sub-conscience was questioning me; was it really _that_ bad?

_Look at all the others things you've done, never mind thinking about them._

I sighed.

_Touché._

"Found- _you!_ "

_He sure caught you off guard there._

Nathan's giggling voice felt like a knife slicing through my thoughts, and I suddenly felt lost. Fabric was whipped around the front of my face like a blindfold, but also covered my mouth and nose so I could hardly take a proper breath besides letting a shout of surprise slip past my lips.

I fell backwards with a thud, and had the air knocked out from my lungs for a second or two whilst being tackled by Nathan, feeling him straddle my hips tightly. I tried to fight back against him, wanting to laugh and have a bit of fun, but at the same time I wanted to give in and let my strength go — I wanted to surrender to him.

_But why?_

By the time I had gotten my breath back, he had weakly pinned my wrists down above my head. I could've just sat up and pushed him off me if I wanted, but I didn't. The fabric was still covering my face. I could only see darkness, and hear our heavy breathing.

"I got you." Nathan said, his tone light.

"Wasn't _I_ meant to find _you?_ " I responded. He pulled the fabric away, and broad daylight blinded me before I blinked a couple of times, "Or did you decide to change the rules without telling me them in the first place?"

"We were meant to find each other." He explained, leaning forward a little, "But you didn't bother, so I came and attacked you. Therefore, I win."

I chuckled. "You're pretty tiny for a predator."

"I can do anything to you, though."

"I'd like that."

"You're not scared of me?"

"Not at all."

Idly, he sat back in thought, chewing his bottom lip whilst thinking for an answer, and at the same time made me let out a soft grunt as he unknowingly put all his weight on my crotch. I pursed my lips. I tried to bear with the awkward feeling in that moment, and hoped he would lean forward again to save me from another nuisance.

"What kind of predator would I be?" He said aloud.

I swallowed. "Uh…I dunno…a cat maybe?"

He cocked his head at me. "Do I look like a cat?"

_He's a fucking deer, Sam, a fucking deer, remember the doe?_

Oh, yeah you're right.

_A little deer isn't a hunter, though._

"Maybe not." I answered back.

He leant forward — oh, _glory_ — and shuffled closer to me, just up onto my abdomen.

"I think you'd be a predator too." He said. "You remind me of a wolf. Y'know the Timber wolves? But you'd wouldn't be a grey one. You'd be a brown one."

"Why a brown one?"

"Because you have brown hair. And brown eyes."

_Deer have brown eyes too._

Nathan then sat back, and I wanted to die when he did, because I knew I wasn't going to be able to restrain myself any longer.

_Hell, this was getting really fucking weird._

"Which way was the road again?" He asked, turning slightly (thank God he didn't see my face when he looked away to his right), and as he did, I felt my eyes roll shut and my lips part due to the unexpected friction he unintentionally created down at my lower half.

_Pull it together Sam!_

"I think we should go now, yeah?" I said, maybe a little bit too sarcastic with my tone, but I didn't care. The main thing was getting him off my fucking crotch before things got even worse—

"Back to the bike?" He questioned again.

"No shit."

"Jeez, I was just asking — wait…why are you…tensing?"

"Ah…no reason, just…uh…get off me."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	23. Chapter 23

_Sam_

_~_

"Are you cold?"

"No."

"Stop lying."

The next town felt like every other we'd came through, but there was something different to it. Besides the changes in looks, the smell was different. There were no city fumes lingering in the air, and I could tell that just by breathing in what was around me. I knew the difference, as I considered myself to be a bit of an urbanite. Plus, the place was around fifteen minutes away from a plot of wood and greenery.

Night had already fallen once we got to the nearest motel that was lodged in the heart of the place, and it was cold.

For no particular reason, I had taken Ewan's advice on carrying a handgun around with me. Even though that kind of ruled out the 'no-particular-reason' part, I never felt the need to bring something like that around in my rucksack. Sure, I might sound really fucking stupid, and sure, I could easily get cornered at any point through my journeys, but nothing big like that had happened so far.

_Touch wood._

The metal object was sat in one of my jean pockets. It had been there for quite some time now.

Nathan's cheeks and nose had turned pink, like they always did when it got quite cold, especially at night. He was reluctant at accepting my assertive offer of giving him my jacket once again, but he instantly gave up on refusing the moment I draped the clothing over his two shoulders with no comment.

"…Thank you." He murmured, hesitant with his head lowered. I smiled, even though he wasn't looking at me, and ruffled his hair as a response. I then turned to get the bike parked, and I heard Nathan shuffle behind me, and of course, I thought nothing of it — but his footsteps weren't light and tiptoe-like — these were heavy.

It took me a mere second to figure out what was occurring, and when Nathan let out a squeak of fright and his voice hitched, I didn't hesitate on slipping my hand into my right pocket to pull out the gun and whip it straight to my opponent's head—

—my _God._

I wanted to laugh, but it fucking _hurt._

I opened my mouth to speak, and I nearly choked, the words dying in my throat, "I-I almost shot your fucking head off."

Ewan chuckled, and Nathan fell limp in his grasp, shuddering in the scare he'd received.

Ewan hadn't changed in looks, nor voice, and nor build. He was still the same, and that was good. He had the gun he once showed me pressed against Nathan's left temple, a heavy, masculine yet somewhat delicate hand covering the boy's mouth. Nathan's eyes were blooming with fear, even though he knew Ewan was only mucking about with a hopefully _not_ loaded gun.

"I was debating whether I should've snuck up on you instead." He shot me a grin, and glanced down at Nathan, "You still alive?" He pulled the gun away from the child's head, and replaced it with a gentle, teasing caress, "Sweetheart?"

Nathan blinked twice, gulping, and gave a weary nod. Ewan smiled down at him, pulled him close, and spoke in a husky voice, "Have you fucked him yet?"

"W-What?"

"I mean Sam. Have you fucked Samuel yet?" He said again.

_He's already getting on my damn nerves._

Nathan swallowed once more, and looked up to him, "No. Why?"

Ewan sent him a sheepish half-smile, "Ah. Y'know. I'm sure he thinks about you a lot. That's all."

_Dick._

-

"How did you find us?"

Ewan lit up a cigarette, cupping the flickering orange flame from the balmy night breeze that occasionally passed through us. He stuffed the lighter back into his pocket, and gave a harsh puff.

"You'll be losing that one if you keep that up." I uttered, and to my surprise, he heard me.

"Feels like I've known you for years, mate."

"I'm not sure on whether I should agree on that."

He grinned, and forwarded back to my question, "Nah, I just…y'know…followed the thoughts of a lovelorn eighteen year old — and here I am." He made a little gesture to our surroundings, still grinning like an idiot.

" _Nineteen_." I corrected flatly.

"Sor- _ree_." He responded, and took the cigarette out from his parted lips and breathed out slowly.

"I'm not _lovelorn_ either…" I added.

"You sure?"

"Positive."

"Then why are you holding back from him?"

_He's right._

"It's complicated."

_Why are you lying?_

I rubbed my arms, and glanced up at the night sky. There were no stars, nor moon, but clouds.

"How's it complicated?" He repeated, and let the cigarette balance between his parted lips, "I mean, it's pretty simple."

"It's not that simple." I added, turning my head to him. He gave a small shrug.

"How is it?"

"He's been selling himself."

"So, like, he's a prostitute?—"

"I'd rather not use that term."

"What, why? Does it turn you off or something?"

" _Ewan_."

He only smiled at me, shaking his head as he took another puff of his cigarette, and snuck an arm round my waist, pulling me a little too close to his side. I let out a quiet grunt of discomfort, but he ignored it, and kept his hold. I had became used to his small habits and perks.

"Does it bother you?" He then asked, gentle in tone, and it confused my train of thought and action. I didn't answer.

After a moment, I felt myself surrender, and I rested my head at his shoulder as I spoke quietly, "I want to help him."

"How are you gonna do that exactly?"

"With or without _your_ help."

He chuckled out a sigh, "Guess I'm in already."

I looked up to him, "He's been asking about you. Later after we left."

"Oh really?"

"Hm."

He grinned, and I saw the cheeky glint in his both his eye, and I playfully jabbed him in the ribs.

"Don't get any ideas." I shot.

"I can't. Even if I tried," he responded, "He's already taken, anyway."

I closed my eyes.

"He called me up on your phone not long ago, and I could practically feel the want in his voice." He smiled again, his face soft and genuine this time, "He said he didn't know what to do with you."

I opened my eyes.

"He said he felt lost — in a good way. A really good way. And he likes it," Ewan leant close to my face, and our noses were inches from touching, "But he also feels terrible for liking you."

I pursed my lips, and leant away from him, and muttered out, "We're both as bad as each other."

"You should tell him that." He stated. "It'll make him feel better."

"Why does he feel bad?"

"Because of what he's been doing. And what have you done?—" he stopped short and rephrased what he'd just said, "—well, that's how _he_ sees it. It's not like you've told him anything about _your_ background."

"He didn't tell me about that." I answered back, and he frowned.

"What, the prostitution?"

"I found that out myself. He's only mentioned little things about his foster mother and her boyfriend and the—"

_Other people._

I shook my head, "…I…I don't think I should…tell him…all of…that…"

The drugs were a start, and before that, things seemed to be the opposite beginning for the end and _not_ the start. I knew how Nathan felt to an extent, I knew what the shock and realisation felt like, I knew what _living_ felt like — anything past that was out of the question for my mind and physical self to experience. I had grown out of that. I wouldn't be able to feel it like he does. Like a child would.

Ewan gave me a slight squeeze, an effort of comfort, and stubbed the cigarette out, "Suit yourself, pretty-boy."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	24. Chapter 24

_Sam_

_~_

When Ewan mentioned he had other plans in mind for where he was heading to next, something inside me plummeted in childish disappointment. I hated to admit, but I wanted him here with us. Maybe Nathan's inquisition regarding Ewan had rubbed off on me as well, and I didn't even know it.

"You're making me sound special, y'know." He teased, making a move to cup my cheeks, but I edged away from him.

"It was just a question!" I hissed, and suddenly lost my guard — somehow getting myself too close to him — and the next thing I knew he had me over his shoulder. He carried me like this, whistling as he made his way to the reception of the motel, striding through it and in to the main corridor of rooms. I began to wonder whether he found me heavy to lift, but I easily answered that myself as he had been carrying me for at least a minute or more without no fail. When he got to our room, he kicked the door open, and, "Nathan! I've got a delivery for ya!"

If he hadn't lowered me in that second, I would have knocked my head off the top of the door frame. I had to turn awkwardly, and with Ewan's hands wrapped round the back of my thighs it restricted me way more to even move never mind trying to turn my body at an angle. I could tell he was restraining himself from groping my backside when we entered the room.

Nathan appeared, and he blinked twice at our situation before speaking, "Where…were you guys?"

I was about to respond, but Ewan seemed to have other plans; quickly and somewhat cheekily, he cut me off, "Ah y'know, the usual. Taking drugs and stuff."

Nathan's face went blank.

I was assuming Ewan thought that Nathan had a streak of dry humour and sarcasm in him — and he did, but it tended to level down a few notches when he was getting pretty tired.

Ewan swallowed, "I'm kidding."

"Well you're kinda half-right — I can smell smoke from you."

"How do you know it's not Samuel?—"

"It's _Sam_." I shot, correcting him.

Nathan continued, "Because…I haven't seen him smoking lately…I would've known…"

-

"What…did you exactly get…?"

"Like — I dunno, I know it's food though, I can tell you that."

"I figured…"

Some time later Ewan headed out to bring back something to eat once Nathan mentioned that he was feeling hungry. Not long after I felt the same as him, and forgot that we had been driving all day — only having something to eat in the morning, and a few snacks along with that.

"It's chicken," I said, and Nathan looked over to me from the bed he was sat on cross-legged. I glanced at Ewan whom was sat against one of the walls close to us; he had his legs stretched out in front of him, and was sipping a can of beer. I looked back at the boy, "Don't listen to what he says."

Nathan couldn't help but smile at my comment, and the idea as if I were pretending to whisper a discreet little secret to a six year old regarding the other person in the room — Ewan. The young adult rolled his eyes.

"He's just trying to put you off." I added quickly, in a short whisper.

Nathan let out a giggle, and responded with half a mouthful, his eyes lowering back to the small takeout box as he forked at whatever was inside it, "Maybe he wants me chewing on something else."

There was a short silence then. Nathan could be heard swallowing a moment after, and he looked at us both, his expression blank, but not confused. It was as if he were waiting for something.

Ewan blinked twice, " _Well_ ," he said whilst eating, "You never told me he was _this_ much of a tease."

I forced a half-smile at him, "That's him on a good day," and turned my head back to Nate. The tiniest bit of pink had inked into his cheeks, but his grin hid the blush too easily.

"What's he like on a bad one?"

"Even worse." Nathan cut in, "Not that Sam has experienced any of it."

Ewan almost choked, " _Great_."

I forked at the takeout I held, thinking to myself as they both made brief conversation, expecting me to cut into their inappropriate comments like a parent and make them both laugh like children, but I let them carry on at one another. I thought.

_I feel light._

"Samuel."

"What?"

"What's your music taste?"

I let out a sigh, "What made you ask that?"

Ewan set down his can, and sat up, crossing his legs, "Dunno. Just thought of it now."

"I like a bit of everything."

"You like classical music too, then?"

I turned my head to Nathan, smiled, and knew he had some knowledge of the subject as I picked up on his tone of curiosity, "Beethoven was too dramatic for me."

"You don't look like someone who would listen to an orchestra of strings anyway." He finished up on eating, and set the takeout box aside, sliding down off the bed and into the carpeted floor with us.

"Piano, maybe?" I answered.

" _Claire de Lune_ , then." He stated.

"Perhaps."

Ewan chuckled, "You're a real kid at heart, y'know."

I cleared my throat, "I think you're mistaken…" It was one of those typical moments. You would immediately think to speak in a formal manner of sarcasm, to be 'funny', but I had no clue what his last name was, therefore I couldn't continue my line.

Ewan almost instantly caught on to what I was about to say, and he gave a stretch of his arms, humming.

"I never told you my last name, did I?"

I shook my head.

"Delaney."

Nathan was the first to speak, "That's Irish."

" _Nice_ ," Ewan let out a chuckle, "How'd you figure that one out?"

"I read a book."

"A book."

"It was set in Ireland."

"Hm. And?"

"One of the characters' last names was called Delaney." Nathan shuffled close to my shoulder, and I felt a warmth bloom inside me, "He was sent to an orphanage and got raped halfway through the story by one of the housemasters."

I swallowed, and Ewan blinked, unsure of what to say.

"Aren't you a little too young to be reading those things?" I commented, playfully nudging him. He looked up at me.

"Aren't you a little too old to be making that joke?"

I smirked, "Never too old."

"Eighteen." Ewan purposefully coughed out. I shot him a glare.

" _Nineteen_."

"Same th—"

"It is _not_ the same thing. There's a year difference, stupid."

Nathan let out a laugh, and the warmth inside me grew.

_At least he's happy._

 

 

 

 

 

 


	25. Chapter 25

_Sam_

_~_

A couple of hours later Nathan fell asleep curled up on one side of the double bed, and Ewan decided to head out outside for another smoke.

"You need to tell him everything, Sam."

"I know, I know…"

"No, I don't think you _do_ know."

He set a hand to the lower of my back, and I purposely elbowed him in the ribs hard enough to let him know I knew what I was doing, and that I was capable, but he took no notice and pulled me against him for the billionth time.

"I've seen enough of it to know what it is at an extreme level, Samuel." He leant close; close enough until I could smell the smoke from him, but it didn't bother me.

"Tell me, then." I said.

"How's your history with drugs?"

I swallowed, and I was sure he heard.

"Why the fuck do you do this to me." I uttered flatly.

"I…" he stopped, and suddenly, I could feel him lose his character. He let go of me, cigarette between lips as he buried his fists into his pockets. He lowered his head, glancing at the ground before looking back at me.

"What?" I edged.

He opened his mouth to speak, but hesitated and shook his head.

"Just spit it out." I said again.

"I can't."

"Why not?"

-

"…Sam…?"

"…sorry…"

"It's…it's fine…did Ewan leave…?"

"…yeah."

Before Ewan left, we had made an agreement that he'd come by in the morning, and we'd make plans from there. He never told me what he wanted to tell me before he ran off.

I made a good start by accidentally waking up Nathan from his sleep after stumbling into the bathroom door that swung open and hit the tiled wall behind it, a loud sound of course emitting. Nathan didn't seem to mind, though. I guess he liked to know I was there — whether I unintentionally wake him up or not.

"Go back to sleep." I whispered, trying to quietly pull off my shoes and jacket. Nathan sat up and rubbed his eyes, and with a sigh I knew he wasn't going to; not just yet.

"I can't."

"Close your eyes."

"No."

" _Nathan_."

_He wasn't sleeping at all, was he_.

"Yes?"

_Little brat._

In the mild dark, I took off the rest of my clothes and left on my underwear before getting in to the bed with him — then to feel a hard jab in the ribs the moment I lay my head down. I let out a yelp of surprise.

Nathan giggled.

"Do you _mind_?" I shot. He dismissed my tone, and he knew fine well I would never act so harsh with him, so he continued.

"Tell me a story."

"Oh for the love of—"

"Please?"

I sighed inwardly.

_You're gonna get nowhere with this, Sam._

I turned over onto my side, to meet Nathan, but he gently made me roll back so he could rest his head at my collar. He slipped a weak arm across my abdomen, and shifted closer. With no other choice I embraced him, nuzzling the top of his head for a moment.

"What kind of stories do you like." I said softly. I felt him shrug.

"I…don't know…make one up for me."

"Sure. Let me think first."

"Okay."

I looked up at the ceiling, and licked my lips in thought. My mind suggested something uplifting and adventurous, a little childish, maybe a little mainstream in the world of storytelling, but I decided on improvising instead. I was better at that. It was like making up a lie on the spot, but a good lie, not a bad one. This one would mean no harm.

"…A young boy struggles to breathe…as he dies in his mother's womb…and he wakes up in a blank world…alone and bruised," I paused, "He finds a _cat_."

Nathan shifted once more.

"The cat is alone too. The cat is white, white as fresh snow and milk. The boy…picks up this cat, and makes a home in his mind…he washes himself…and this pearly white cat, and takes himself and this pearly white cat to bed with him. He sleeps and dreams — the cat too, sleeps and dreams — they both dream of the same thing. They dream…they dream of a young man." I closed my eyes, feeling my myself suddenly tire.

"…The boy wakes," I yawn, "…and the cat wakes…but…the cat…isn't a cat anymore…"

"What happened to the cat?" Nathan blurted, and I almost laughed at his direct comment, but my laugh came out as a weary sort of chuckle.

"The cat…is the young man the boy dreamed of. The boy wished for someone to die with him…before he drowned inside his mother…and the cat…was his wish. The cat was the _boy's_ wish. The cat was a little star, fallen…from the night's water," I swallowed the dry in my throat as I continued, "…the young man spoke to the boy in a whisper, _'I will protect you.'_ "

Nathan squeezed me gently.

"…So…the boy and the cat—I mean the wish— _no_ , the young _man_ ,"

He let out a small giggle.

"They both stayed together…forever. Until time could pull them apart, they stayed like that…for infinity…with no one else to stop them."

"Did the cat have a name?" Nathan questioned. I smiled down at him.

"Some things aren't meant to be known."

"Like what?"

"Things we're scared of the most." I whispered.

"What are you scared of?"

My tiredness instantly faded when I heard what was said. Nathan looked up to meet my gaze.

"A lot of things." I answered after a moment.

"Like what?"

_Like what, Sam?_

I closed my eyes again.

_Losing things._

"Spiders." I said flatly.

"Stop lying. Spiders are misunderstood little creatures."

"I was being sarcastic, kid."

"I'm scared of being alone."

"You're with me. You're not alone."

"Do you think Ewan is scared too?"

"Of course. We're all scared of something."

"Sammy?"

I rolled over onto my side, still holding the boy in my arms, his head close to my bare chest. I could feel his faint, warm breathing at my skin.

"Yeah?" I answered back.

I received a squeeze from him, and he responded in the quietest of voices.

" _…You're my cat…_ "

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	26. Chapter 26

_Sam_

_~_

"What do you want to eat?"

"I'm not hungry."

"Pancakes?"

"Sam—"

"Pancakes it is then."

Nathan playfully kicked me in the shin under the booth table, and in return I tapped him on the head with the flimsy-laminated menu. We both woke up early, and decided to get some breakfast outside of the motel; we had found a quiet nearby cafe lodged in the street full of other shops and takeaways that hadn't opened up yet.

"Will Ewan know where we are?" Nathan asked.

"Probably not considering that we didn't even say to him," I paused, leaning both my elbows down on the table as I folded my arms, and spoke quietly yet playfully, "If he can find us miles away from where we left in the beginning, going somewhere else shouldn't be too hard," Nathan blinked at me, "We're in the same town, after all."

He gave a mutter as a response, "I bet he'll catch you out."

I came out with a reply, "Hey, _he's_ the one who pulled a gun to your head."

"He was thinking of doing it to you as well, Sam."

"Well, I just got lucky."

He smiled, and glanced away from my eyes in that second, blinking twice in what seemed like uncontrollable thought.

Some time later a waitress came to our booth, and when she brought back what I had ordered for Nathan, the boy almost immediately asked why I had not ordered anything else, and why I wasn't eating anything myself.

"Don't you concern yourself with me." I said. He licked his lips as he swallowed, prodding the fresh dollop of whipped cream on the side of his plate with his fork.

"Well who's gonna look out for you when you're looking out for me?"

"Ewan would easily have me shot, for starters, no doubt about that. He's outa the question for sure," I let out a sigh as I sat back. Nathan cut up another piece of his pancake, and silence overwhelmed us both then.

His eyes flicked up to me, and he cut up another piece that was smeared in chocolate, and he rather quickly and mercilessly stabbed it and reached over to point it at me.

"Eat it." He said bluntly. I blinked twice, puzzled.

"What?" I asked.

"Eat. It." He said again. I swallowed.

I wasn't hungry. To be honest I had lost my appetite over the past few days.

"Eat it eat it eat it." Nathan had gotten up on his knees now, and I hissed at him to sit properly.

"I'm not hungry," I let out a chuckle as he gave up within seconds, "Besides, you're the little one here."

Nathan scoffed. "I remember I was dared to eat candle wax once. And to set my hair on fire."

" _Candle_ _wax_?"

"You sound as if you'd prefer doing that than playing with fire."

"Well…I feel like it would be a lot more _safer_ than fire…"

"Fire's fun, though."

_What._

I felt somewhat stupid a minute later. It took me some time to process what had just been said.

_Hell, the kid didn't really look like a pyro — what did a pyro even look like anyway? — so what, maybe he is; or maybe he's just still stuck in innocence and sees fire as something daring and dangerous to be around with?_

Ewan came to my mind, then, and I mentally rolled my eyes at the image.

_He couldn't even get away from a hooker never mind trying to light a match without the help of a lighter._

Warmth bloomed in my chest at the thought. It was funny.

"Aren't you scared of it?" I questioned idly.

The boy licked his lips, "Nah. I didn't really absorb a lot when I was a little."

"What do you mean?"

"Like…it didn't bother me…I guess. Well, most of the things didn't bother me. There was only a few that really got to my head. Not much else."

I couldn't help but question myself about what those 'things' were to him. Sure I obviously knew, but as bad as it felt to me, I wanted to know the details. I considered details to be guilty little pleasures everyone enjoyed one way or another, even if you did not particularly wanted to enjoy them, everything but your mind will say yes to disobeying what you're telling yourself not to do.

_Fuck._

I closed my eyes for a mere second.

_He's seven years younger than me._

"Something wrong?"

I looked up, blinking, "What? No no, I'm just thinking."

Nathan eyed me for a moment before sitting back.

My phone gave a buzz in my jacket pocket, and I pulled it out to find a message from Ewan. When I opened it, I didn't think twice before glancing behind me, as it read:

_Found you._

I was greeted by a pair of warm, masculine yet somewhat feminine hands that covered both my eyes. I didn't bother prying him off me, so I slumped and let out a soft sigh.

"Guess who?" Ewan whispered huskily in to my right ear, and I felt myself unexpectedly shiver. I shook away the little anxiety.

" _Oh_ , I fucking _wonder_." When I spoke quietly in a tone coated sarcasm, I knew Nathan smiled. Ewan pulled away, and tutted.

"I'm tryin' to make things fun." He said as he slipped into the booth, pressing himself against me as he shuffled in. "Course, you're the real downer in this place." He uttered afterwards with a soft, teasing whistle of pride and mock. Although, it was completely out of care, and I felt ridiculously flattered in that instant.

"I think a lot." I responded.

He pulled out his worn wallet, and peeled it open to reveal a few cards and old receipts. He dropped it on to the table, and slipped his hands in to his back pockets, in search of something else.

"You're kinda delusional." He shot with a grin.

"Not always."

He found some stray coins, "Sure?"

"Positive."

I felt Nathan's foot nudge at my ankle.

When our eyes met he blinked and discreetly raised his brows, obviously trying to edge me in to something, but I didn't know what, so I frowned as a response whilst Ewan was still rummaging around himself.

After Nathan's failed attempt of whatever he was trying to hint, he spoke aloud, "Sam's not eating."

Ewan's head shot up, "What?"

I let out a groan as the older man shuffled closer to me, "I don't need _you_ of all people on my case."

"I'm not gonna force anything down your throat if that's what you're thinking, _pretty boy_."

I sighed.

-

—" _Under blue moon I saw you, so soon you'll take me, up in your arms too late to beg or cancel it though I know it must be the killing time_ ,"

For a drifter who had nothing and got by on whatever he was capable of getting, I had never thought of Ewan having an actual voice. The natural huskiness that was hidden in the back of his throat made the notes he uttered out even more melodic in a way — almost dreamlike too, if I imagined and thought deeper about it.

He whistled out the next verse while taking out a cigarette, lighting it before settling it between his lips. He paused, taking a puff before continuing the next line of the post-punkish song.

We were stood in an old park.

It reminded me a lot of the first time I'd met Nathan — and Ewan. Although, there was no cobbled garden-wall to lean against. Instead the park had a pond full of overgrown water plants and reeds. Trees were sparsely scattered here and there, and far out over the hills that led in to a few acres of country and wood, in the open, stood an electrical power plant.

I shook my head, "Where's Nathan?"

Ewan looked up, putting away his lighter, and nodded towards where the boy was.

I followed his direction, and spotted Nathan crouched at the edge of the pond. He was staring in to the still, breeze-rippled water.

Leaving Ewan for the time being, I made way to where Nate was, thinking to myself.

But I didn't intend on thinking _drastically_.

_Imagine if there was gravel beneath your feet._

I stopped walking.

_Imagine if that bullet was there, beneath your foot._

I swallowed.

_Imagine it rolling and grinding against the gravel._

I looked around.

_Find the bullet's victim, Sam._

_Think back._

_Whom did it kill?_

But it _wasn't_ a bullet.

I gulped this time.

_It was a shell._

_From_ a bullet—

"Sam, you're spacing out."

"It's not real."

"What isn't real?"

_Shit._

I blinked twice, glancing at my surroundings, making sure I was still on earth.

Ewan was a distance away, leant against his bike, still smoking.

Nathan was still crouched at the edge of the pond. I was stood beside him.

_What was I mean to be doing?_

"I-it's nothing. I was just thinking. That's all." I reassured him.

"You looked scared."

I let out a snort, "Why would I be scared?"

"I don't know. We're all scared of something, right?"

I thought about our last conversation.

We were sleeping together. I had just told Nathan a story — _fuck, what was it about? A cat, that was it, right? I'm sure it was — no, no, no, there's something missing. It's gone. What the hell was it?_

It's not there.

The grassy earth came rushing up to meet me when I tried to blink.

My mind generated images before I felt everything fade.

I was in a bed, holding something.

But it wasn't Nathan.

It was a deer carcass.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	27. Chapter 27

_Sam_

~

The deer let out bleated out a mewl in my arms, and when my mind processed the image, I realised I was holding a bloody fawn. It's silken fur was wet and damp, marked in a clotted red substance and smelled of female musk.

It's eyes were dark and frightened, and I figured it wasn't dead. At least not yet. It was bleeding its own blood — not just its mother's. I could feel it pool into the palms of my hands when I held the animal close, and I could feel it spill and run across my chest when I shifted beneath it.

It let out another mewl, and I looked down at it. I asked what it wanted, as if pretending to be its mother. What I got as a response slapped me out of what felt like a living nightmare — and it was.

The fawn cried, _"You're killing me."_

-

"Whoa, easy pretty boy, you've been out for an hour at least."

Ewan was the first person I felt at my side, and Nathan came in to my conscience like a brick saying hello to glass.

"I thought you _died_!" He exclaimed, tapping both sides of my face. His fingers were cold.

Ewan stubbed out his cigarette, and knelt down close, almost plucking Nathan out of my space as he gently motioned the boy away from me, catching him by the hood of his hoodie.

"Your man here, decided to pull a fucking joke on us by knocking himself out," he said. Nathan pried himself away from the elder, and shuffled closer to my side. He hovered over me, and as I blinked a couple of times, both of their faces blocked out the grey daylight.

"I didn't…pull any joke." I muttered.

Ewan snorted. "Course you didn't," he paused, "Maybe you're still too out of it for a bit of sarcasm."

"He just _woke up_." Nathan shot, and for a brief moment, we were all taken aback by his outburst.

"Damn, Samuel," Ewan chuckled, running a brief hand through his dark hair, "You've got a kid here that can do both."

Nathan glowered at him in return, "I'll bite your throat if you don't shut up."

"Sounds like an _invite_ if you ask me."

"You really wanna go there?"

Slowly, I propped myself up on both my elbows, "Nathan, I'm fine, see? I'm awake."

The boy seemed unconvinced as he turned back to me. "You were saying weird things."

I frowned, "Like what…?"

Ewan cleared his throat a little too loudly, making Nathan jump, "Sam, you said fuck all."

"You're swearing a lot today are you alright?" I replied.

He blinked, and shot an indirect glare at me, in slight disbelief of what I'd just said to him, "What? Course, I'm great. I should be asking _you_ that — you fucking passed out and almost crushed your kid."

I sat up this time, and everything became clear in that moment, and I remembered blacking out, "What…?"

"You fell on top of me." Nathan responded.

"Did it hurt?"

Ewan tried not to laugh, and choked on air instead.

" _Sam_ ," he said, falling down beside me and pulling me close with one strong arm. He was grinning, "Are you _sure_ you're alright?"

Nathan blinked.

"Yeah. Why wouldn't I be?" Honestly, I wasn't sure myself. I lied. Hell, inside my head I was laughing too, but I didn't know why.

Ewan looked amused, "Are you high or something?"

I shook my head, and he laughed even harder. He fell on to his back with his arms spread along the grass, and he looked up at the sky with a wide, carefree smile.

He turned his head to look at Nathan and I, and I felt light. I felt warm. Happy, even. I was sure Nathan felt like that too.

"I'm glad we all met." He chuckled.

I tried to close my eyes then; to see if the little fawn was still suffocating in my arms, but it wasn't.

Maybe it didn't die.

_Maybe it left just in time before it did._

-

We stayed in the park for another hour and a half, however I insisted we could have left earlier, but both Ewan and Nathan were unconvinced that I was well enough to be up on my feet.

"How do you cover things up so easily?" I idly asked the boy. He looked up at me for a moment, confused.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean…you smile…even when you know there's…a lot more stuff going on in the background." I rephrased. He gave a nod of understanding.

"Well, you learn," He said, slightly abrupt in a way, but I knew he didn't mean it, "And you keep doing it until you feel like you're doing a good job of hiding."

"Are you hiding right now?" I asked, nudging his arm gently as we walked. He smiled genuinely, and hummed teasingly in response.

"I'm-not-telling-you."

-

The next place we landed in was no different than the previous cities and towns we had ventured through. We stopped off at a gas station to get fuel, and also to get something to eat as there was quiet cafe beside it.

It was rounding off towards the evening.

Very little people were there. Only the odd person or two stopped off to get fuel and such, or money. I had established that once I accidentally bumped in to one of the men.

" _Oi_ , watch where the hell you're going."

The voice was low, husky and bitter, and it shook me to the core for some reason. I caught sight of his face and attire before he swiftly brushed past me, not thinking twice about my short, one-word apology — dark rings hung round his sharp, misty eyes and defined features; his cleanly cut stubble made up for that though, making his complexion seem more 'normal' in a way. His hair was cut short.

I continued to follow Ewan and Nathan into the cafe, glad they were out of range when I walked into that man.

-

"Well, this is _fun_ ," Ewan spoke with light-hearted sarcasm as he sat down opposite me, a lollipop stick between his lips. He pushed something towards me, "Eat if you want to live and not pass out." He smirked.

"I'll consider it," I responded, and opened up the plastic container, "What's inside it?"

He gave a shrug, "Not sure. I didn't know what you liked. I mean, I figured it was a _sandwich_." He was already grinning, and I rolled my eyes at his comment.

"Stop taking the piss."

"I know you like me doing it, though."

"Ewan, I swear to God—"

"You're smiling too, so that must mean you like—"

" _Ewan_."

Yes, I was smiling, I couldn't help it. He was making me smile because of the ridicule he was creating.

"Where's Nate?" I added soon after. He raised his brows, and motioned behind me. I turned in my place to see Nathan up at the counter, having what seemed like a brief conversation with the barista. In that moment, he gave a small nod, and turned his head in our direction.

He spoke to us, "I'm gonna go get some change from the garage."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	28. Chapter 28

_Sam_

_~_

When Nathan had left to go get some money from outside, Ewan tapped my forearm as I began to eat.

"As much as I don't want to think about it…" he began, "…what are we actually doing out here?"

I swallowed before responding, "Running away."

He blinked. "That it?"

I nodded.

"It feels like you're running away with _him_." He added gently, half-smiling at the same time. I rolled my eyes.

"He doesn't want to go back, that's for sure," I took another bite of the sandwich, "I really don't know what we're gonna do when we suddenly decide to just…I dunno…stop…?" I paused, swallowing, "Why you ask anyway?"

He shrugged. "It's kinda scary."

"What is?"

"Not knowing what's coming for you when you get there."

_Is that what he's scared of?_

Perhaps.

_I had better tell Nathan that once he comes back, he might still be interested in the subject._

"Why do you find that scary?" I questioned.

Ewan shifted in his place, burying his fists into his jacket pockets, "It's the fact that a lot of things change whenever you're unaware of them changing, y'know? It's as if you're… _blinded_ for a while, and then when you can finally see…everything has moved and you're left…to figure it all out with no one else's help. Y'get me?"

I knew what he meant. I felt like that too. But not right now.

_Maybe he was beginning to think ahead of things? Perhaps he was planning something? Was he going to leave us?_

I asked him, "Why are you thinking of this now?"

"I'm gonna have to face it at some point." He replied, "And you. _And_ him."

_He's right._

I thought to myself for a second.

_Little Nathan can barely manage himself never mind the whole world—_

"It's been fifteen minutes."

"What?"

After I'd finished up on getting something into my system, I packed up the rubbish and found a nearby bin before grabbing my things from the table — phone and keys, along with my bag and Nathan's. He had left it there before going to get change.

Something cold was blooming inside me now.

"That man you ran into behind us,"

_What?_

"Did you know who he was?"

Ewan's sudden question made me freeze in my place for that moment, before I came out with a response, "No. I didn't. I've never seen him."

I hurried out of the cafe, and the cool night air was the first thing I felt. The garage was still and quiet, and Nathan was no where to be seen.

_That can't be right._

I blinked twice, looking around again. The garage store was empty. No one was in there except for the woman at the till that was now sat back in a chair with a cigarette between her lips. If Nathan was in there, we would have been able to make out his delicate figure wandering around.

_But it wasn't._

"Jesus _Christ_ ," the words left my mouth like a begging prayer when reality took its turn to play out in my head, and my heart was trying to regain its natural pace once everything came piecing up together. It was coming too fast. Way too fast. I could hardly speak.

"He's not there," I uttered, "E-Ewan he's not _there_."

It felt as if my throat was closing up, and it was restricting my oxygen and everything else that helped me to calm down. It hurt to swallow, and it hurt to even think about what could have happened in those damned fifteen minutes when Nathan was alone.

 _So much_ could have happened.

_What the fuck was I thinking?_

"Hey, calm yourself," Ewan's voice suddenly changed out of its usual charisma to a somewhat dominant tone. He gripped onto my shoulders as he spoke, tapping the sides of my face to get my attention, "He can't have gone far."

His statement had me on the edge, "Can't have gone far?" I instantly snapped when the situation sank in, and everything inside me flared.

Ewan shot a deathly glare at me when I answered back at him, and a small part of me feared the young man in that moment. He clearly had the upper hand of control.

"It's fucking easier _said_ ," I added, unable to resist the anger. The frustration was unbearable, "Hell, he could be—"

" _Oi!_ " Ewan's voice raised then, and he pulled me forward sharply, his fingers probably leaving small bruises along my forearms due to his strength, "There's no use arguing over it, especially to me, understand?" His eyes were looking for immediate contact, and I was trapped in his gaze for that second until he let me go.

"You check around here for Nathan, okay?" He said as he motioned himself towards the garage, "I'll look in the store and ask the girl there if she's seen him. It'll be quick."

With that he left in a jog to where he said he'd be, and I turned and gathered my thoughts and told myself to calm down as I took his blunt advice, and swallowed back the advancing anxiety.

_He can't have gone far._

_He can't have gone far._

_He can't have gone far._

I began to look in every darkened corner that surrounded me. The station's white overhead lights blared like an artificial moon and stars, and they occasionally flickered. There were two cars parked at the far end, away from the light, one of which was clearly out of use for the time being — one of the garage staff — and the other was—

_That man._

"Shit," the curse meant everything, and I felt hope spark deep inside my chest, between my ribs, and it very quickly reached my heart; sending the organ into an erratic pace.

I made a mental note of the car model as I made my way over to it whilst keeping my walking pace normal and collected. The tail lights were on, meaning someone was obviously in the driver's seat.

It _must_ be the guy I ran into not long ago. 

_Who the hell else was even here than him? I didn't see anyone else._

When I was around fifteen metres away from the vehicle, I could make out a figure in the front. It turned its head, as if talking to someone in the passenger seat, and then it reached over — a soft noise of distress could be heard — I couldn't see anything past that.

I broke into a fast pace, and once I neared to the side of the car, with just one look into the rolled-down window, I knew I was right.

Everything seemed to freeze for around three seconds.

It took three seconds for me to process what was laid in front of me:

The man was there in the driver's seat with a bloody lip.

He was holding a gun to a child's head.

My eyes widened, and I had one more second to gasp before I felt the gun glower to my chest—

A familiar voice cried out in terror.

" _Sam!_ "

_That child was—_

I didn't have time to think or make any action due to my instincts once I felt the force of a bullet whizz past the side of my face; instant heat grew under my skin, and I figured it had just grazed my cheek — just under my right eye. In fact, I hardly felt it. I was too caught up in getting to Nathan.

I cursed.

_The guy has a fucking gun, Sam—_

The car door opened, and I felt a harsh, intentional knock to the side of my face, making me blank for a few seconds as my nerves endured the pain. I staggered then, feeling the familiar presence of the gun settle around at my head, and my eyes barely met with my opponent's before he thwacked the weapon across the area of one of my temples.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

_"You lost me."_

The fawn was quiet now. It was still bleeding, but it was _alive_.

_"You let me go."_

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	29. Chapter 29

_Sam_

_~_

 

 

 

 

 

_It's like kisses, isn't it._

Hm.

_Wings beating against you._

A little.

_Punching you with sickly emotion._

It hurts.

_You can feel it inside you._

Yes.

_It won't leave. And it's not going to. Ever._

 

 

 

 

 

"THAT'S A LIE."

 

 

 

 

 

_He will leave if he really wants to—_

 

 

 

 

 

"Jesus Christ, I thought you'd never wake!"

Cold, yet somehow warm, familiar hands cupped my face when I opened my eyes to meet a poorly plastered ceiling. Ewan loomed over me, blinking.

I felt slightly dizzy when my surroundings came into full focus. I could feel everything then — after what felt like quite some time; it was as if my body had somehow restarted, and it was getting familiar with it all once again.

I opened my mouth, but at first, no coherent words came from my voice, but quickly after I found it, "H-How long have I been out…?"

Ewan sat back on his haunches, and pursed his lips in thought.

"Around a couple of hours; maybe a little more than that, I'm not sure. It was hell getting you _here_ though." He said.

My head hurt. Everything hurt. Each time I closed my eyes the darkness was static. It wasn't usually like that. I tended to see tiny things move in the dark. Like little beings of some sort. They were always there when I shut my eyes; now they weren't.

For a moment, everything seemed fine. It was my normality.

Until I remembered it all.

I closed my eyes.

_I've ruined it._

_All of it._

_It's gone—_

"Hey."

Ewan's thumb and index finger found themselves resting just under my bruised chin. They felt rough — experienced in physical labour and hard work — they had not touched anything gentle and weak in a very long time.

"We're gonna find him," He said in a quiet, calm and collected tone, "We'll get Nathan back for definite."

"You're so bloody sure of yourself." I responded, turning my head away from him, his fingers leaving my skin, "It's stupid."

"Sam."

"What?"

When I looked back at him, it felt as if I had been talking to a complete stranger.

Ewan's face was expressionless and utterly unemotional. I could see the majority of determination line across certain parts of his face. His eyes and brows especially.

"I can guarantee you — we _will_ get him back." He said, not breaking our eye-contact, "It'll be easy."

I let out a humourless laugh, and spoke loudly, "We don't even know where the fuck to start!"

Ewan raised a brow, and leant close, "How far would you want to drive with a twelve year old? That middle-aged moron probably doesn't have the fucking patience to go somewhere _decent_. We rely on our gut, Sam," he spoke with gritted teeth, and I felt my heart pound. I could practically _feel_ what was being said, "At least _that_ of all things has been there to help us make the most worthiest choice. Not our head. Our heads are fucking social-butterflies. Sometimes it doesn't know what's happening, and it gets overwhelmed, and then it only thinks to panic — and that's _you_ on the highway to having a mental breakdown — _right now_."

A part of me wanted to fight back at him, I wanted to defend myself and everything I had that made me _me_ , because I could feel he was using me against myself. I knew that part of my mind absolutely hated Ewan with all its heart.

The other half reluctantly listened, and was luckily persuaded.

"Okay?" Ewan then added softly. I gave a nod, and he leant back with a sigh.

All that time I had just realised we were in a room — one that belonged to another motel, I presumed. I was laid on a double bed.

_I want to die._

My conscience felt like crying.

_You let him go. You should be burned._

I shook my head.

"Does your head hurt?" Ewan questioned.

"A little."

"Get some more rest, then. Sleep."

"I don't want to."

He sent me a threatening glare, "Do you want to die?"

_Yes._

_Say yes._

I lowered my head.

_Are you crying?_

"N-No."

"Then go to sleep."

 

 

 


	30. Chapter 30

_Sam_

_~_

When I closed my eyes I told myself, 'don't you dare.'

Everything that had happened — everything that had flooded into my head was put to a stop. The flood had been barricaded with heavy sleep, and somewhere along the lines, the flood of emotion had evaporated within eight hours or more.

According to Ewan, I was _knocked out_ for the rest of the night, and woke up around noon the day after. I was angry at him first. I was angry at him for not waking me up, and angry at him for no reason overall. Lots of things ran through my head. I felt tired and confused. Why did I always get the wrong end?

"Are you gonna get up?"

"Fuck off."

A part of me felt bad. Really bad. Ewan didn't deserve my hate. He didn't deserve any of it. And here I was, snapping at him like a wild animal. I was too frustrated to apologise.

"You haven't showered in two days." He added in a flat mutter, and I glared at him from the bed.

"Do you _want_ to go find Nathan?" He added when I didn't respond.

_Yes._

I didn't answer.

Oh, God, of _course_ I did. I would follow Nathan's culprit to the end of the world just to get back what I want and need — I wouldn't stop looking. I _wanted_ Nathan back.

I got up from the bed, and the anger came rushing back into my blood. I quickly debated to myself when Ewan's eyes met my own. I glanced away from them, and brushed past him (not sure whether to regret) almost pushing him into one of the walls as I made my way for the bathroom. Hell, it was pathetic, and I was expecting him to laugh sarcastically, _cheekily_ , and he would make a comment about how bitchy I was being, but he didn't. I wanted a reaction from him; it annoyed me that he was so calm, and I wasn't.

I got _more_ than a reaction.

The first thing I felt was a cold hand grasp the back of my neck, and his fingers squeezed as he forcefully shoved me into the bathroom — giving me a 'dead leg' at the same time — I ended up stumbling to the tiled floor, nearly coming head-first into the side of the sink. Eager, I felt myself turn back at him, and I swung a fist to his face, but he smoothly grabbed my wrist and knocked me back onto the chilling floor.

I hit the back of my head, that was for sure, _hard_.

Hard enough for both of us to hear.

It hurt. A lot. But I didn't show that.

 _I_ _didn't_ _make the pain_ _visible._

A faint gasp was heard from Ewan, and the fight disappeared from his eyes in that moment, "Oh, _Christ_ , Sam—"

That was when I had my chance to force my knuckles to the side of his face, I felt the full impact through my fist — and he did the same back — part of my mouth went numb, and the fight ignited back into his irises, completely forgetting about our civilisation.

When I tasted blood, I surrendered.

We both lay there — him hovering over me, and me laid beneath him — panting.

"My head hurts." I blurted, trying to swallow the dryness in my throat.

Ewan moved a hand to the side of my face, and I felt his fingers slip under to the nape of my neck.

"W-What are you doing." I muttered.

When he didn't answer, I felt myself begin to panic. My brain was going hysterical; was he going to punch me again?

" _Ewan_." I said.

His fingers touched the side of my neck; where my pulse was. He leant closer until his nose was touching my jaw, and without asking, he rested his head near to the crook of my neck. I was sure that his lips brushed over my Adam's apple, because I could feel his light breath wash over my skin as he lay his head down.

"…How old are you again?" I began.

"Twenty-four."

"I keep thinking you're the same age as me."

"I'm only five years older than you."

"I know…I know…"

Ewan's hair was unbelievably soft. From afar it's texture seemed coarse, grown with stress and always looked untidy and unkept. But it was far from that. It reminded me so much of—

"Can I get up? I'm bleeding."

"Just a little longer." He replied quietly, as though he was shushing me, "…You remind me a lot of him."

_Him?_

Oh.

_Oh._

_Oh_ , God.

Regret then pierced my stomach. Remorse was all I could pick up on. One minute I was wanting to murder this guy, and the next minute I was wanting to embrace him. Was _I_ in the wrong? Or was he?

"Is…he still there…?" I responded.

Ewan came closer until our chests pressed against each other, and he curled an arm round my side, across my middle. I could feel his heartbeat. I felt him shrug.

"He got caught up in some stuff he shouldn't have been dragged into. I guess it was my fault." He said. I swallowed.

"He's alive though, right?"

He hesitated. "I don't know."

"…how old was he?"

"Fourteen."

"How old were you?"

"Eighteen."

_What the hell was I meant to do?_

I felt indecisive as I told myself to wrap my arms around him. Maybe it was more than that — no, I wasn't being indecisive. Definitely not. It was _easier_ than that. Fuck. _Fuck_.

I hoped he hadn't heard me gulp when I pulled him closer. His lips were touching the pulse in my neck. He was warm. He was alive. He was physically healthy in every way. He was strong.

_I can't read him._

"I'm sorry." I said.

"I'm sorry too." He said.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	31. Chapter 31

_Sam_

_~_

 

 

 

 

 

_'…You're my cat…'_

 

 

 

 

 

Nathan didn't pick up his rucksack whenever he went to go get change from the garage. He had left it with us. All this time we had been on the road together I never exactly knew what he carried about with him. His Polaroid camera was definitely in there, along with some spare film for it.

Ewan was off to the side of the empty road taking a smoke.

I got off my bike and sat down at the curb, pulling Nathan's rucksack along with me. When I opened it, my assumption about the camera and film was right, but there was more. My fingers brushed over a small, worn, leather-bounded book, and as I took it out, two polaroids slipped out from the tinged pages.

I looked up from what I was doing, to check on Ewan; to see if he wasn't staring me down or anything. He usually did that.

I picked up one of the photos that was face down beside the bag between my legs. When I turned it over, I immediately remembered and recognised what it was.

_The cat._

The cat from day one.

A small smile tugged at my lips as I remembered it all. I remembered it all in one photo.

I picked up the other, and turned it over.

Oh.

The girl in the photo must have been no older than Nathan — maybe a year or two younger, considering her child-like physique. She was sat on a staircase, elbows resting on her knees and her hands propping up her chin. She was grinning. Her light, blondish hair was tied messily into a bun, and she wore a pale blue, knee-length dress. She wore no shoes.

The photo itself must have been quite old, considering the edges of the Polaroid were yellowed, and the banner was scratched and smeared with age. Small, disjointed, faded handwriting was set in the bottom right hand corner of the picture. It read:

_Elena._

I blinked twice.

My mind was jumping to conclusions already. Who was she?

_You're a fucking adult and you're jealous of a child?_

I shook my head.

"What you got there?"

"Nothing."

Ewan crouched down beside me, and just before he could lean over my shoulder to have a glance, I swiftly slipped the two polaroids back into the crisp pages without him seeing. He hung an arm over my shoulder, cigarette still lit between his lips.

"Y'think I'll live until fifty?" He asked idly.

I shrugged, slipping the book back into Nathan's rucksack. I zipped it up, and pulled it close to my chest.

"I don't know. What do you eat normally?" I answered.

"Like, food."

"Yeah I know that, but…what kind of food?"

"Like, takeaways most of the time. I mean, I smoke a lot so that puts off my appetite," he paused, inhaled, and then exhaled, "That's what keeps me thin."

"But you taste of cigarettes." I countered.

He smiled, "You don't find that attractive?"

I chuckled lightly, "To an extent."

Ewan shuffled closer until our shoulders bumped, playfully pushing me when his lock around me tightened, "You don't mind if I…" he pulled me to his chest, and _fuck_ — it felt awkward, his chin was resting on the top of my head, "Do this?"

I swallowed, "Not at all."

-

When I thought back to what happened in the morning, I wondered whether Nathan might have kept a series of written monologues on his experience — or things he wanted to remember. When I thought about it a little more my assumption felt like nothing. It was a really stupid suggestion. Nathan wouldn't keep things like that; it would upset him to flick through page after page of abuse—

_—wait._

"Mind if I use the shower first?" Ewan poked his head out of the bathroom door, and I gave him a nod of agreement. When I heard the shower water running, I reached across the double bed for Nathan's rucksack.

_That book can't just be filled with pictures._

I unzipped the bag, and took out the leather-bounded book.

_There must be at least a sentence._

I crossed my legs, and cradled the book as I opened it — the two polaroids from before slipping out of the pages. I tucked them away close to the spine and went to the start of the book.  
  
' _Softly_.' The handwriting read in the centre of the very page. I blinked, and turned the next, finding more than one word.

_Wait, won't you, don't go yet._   
_Wait, will you, leave me yet.  
Wait, love me, don't go yet._

It sounded familiar, but not familiar enough. He never said he liked to write.

Maybe I shouldn't have been looking through it; maybe it was something _more_ than personal to him — maybe it was something _he_ was only meant to read and write — no one else.

Confusion hit my stomach, and it dropped to an extent, but not all the way to the point where I already wanted to close the book. I looked back at the handwriting in the middle of the blank page, and read it again, and tried to understand it. I turned the next page.

_Go, won't you, he's here._   
_Wait, won't you, he's inside.  
Go, won't you, he's come out._

_Wait, will you, he's inside; again._

"Sounds kinda erotic."

I felt my wits jump out of my skin once Ewan had creeped up beside me, and his voice so sudden next to my ear as he loomed over to what I was reading.

"Don't _do_ _that_." I scowled with a glare. He only gave a shrug, and nudged my shoulder with his own. His skin was wet.

"What you reading?" He asked, curious.

"I don't know." I answered, looking back at the words written on the page.

"It's poetry, stupid."

"I know _that_."

"How come you didn't say?"

"Because I don't want to be certain."

Ewan smirked, "Sure thing. He'd probably take a psycho at you if he found out you read some of that."

"How so?"

He blinked, "Look at it. It's obviously too personal to understand. Unless you're really that blind."

I glanced back at the words, and read them again. Ewan could tell the answer wasn't going through my head, so he pointed it out.

" _There_ ," he said quietly, his index finger resting beneath the word 'you', "That's _you_ ," he paused, and pointed at the word 'he', "That's his abuser."

I didn't answer.

"He's regretting." Ewan added, "There was probably someone before you. Someone probably found him before you did."

 

 


	32. Chapter 32

_Sam_

_~_

_Someone before me, huh?_

The winding roads seemed never-ending, and the forest that skirted them seemed to be growing bigger and bigger each time we took the odd turn. I couldn't recall any of it. It was different. Maybe we were taking a different route. Or perhaps Ewan was wanting us to avoid something; knowing him he would have some kind of six sense stimulating his actions. 

"Do you know where you're going?" I began, once we took another stop. I climbed off my bike and put the kickstand up. Ewan didn't respond as he took out a cigarette.

"Can I borrow your lighter?" I knew he heard my question. He didn't want to answer it. He probably didn't want to admit the truth.

I slipped my right hand into one of my jean pockets, expecting my lighter to be there, but it wasn't. It _should_ have been there. It was always there. It couldn't have fallen out somewhere, I would have noticed the weight difference—

 _Oh, shit._  
  
"I uh…I…don't have it."

Ewan blinked, his face blank, "What?"

"Yeah…it's…not in my pocket."

"The one with the lil seventy-six and the star on it?"

I frowned, and rolled my eyes, "Shows how much you know about what my lighter looks like, Ewan."

He cursed and muttered, "I _need_ my fucking _nicotine_ for the rest of this drive."

"Relax. The next garage can't be that far."

Ewan put the cigarette back in its packet, stretched his arms and let out a sigh. The next thing he asked was something that I wasn't sure whether to genuinely answer back to, "Sam?"

I looked across to him, "Hm?"

_I might as well just say yes._

"How much for a blowjob?"

_What the fuck?_

I let out a nervy laugh. _Fuck_. I couldn't help it. I mean, what kind of question _was_ that? Wait, was he being _serious_? No way. That was just cruel to say that. That would just…ruin everything, right? It definitely would. It would screw _everything_ up. _Emotionally_.

"You're kidding." I said. He blinked twice, and shook his head.

"I'm serious. How much?"

I swallowed. Oh God, oh _God_ , this was _really_ happening.  
  
"It…depends." I responded slowly.

Ewan raised a brow, "Well…we'll just see how it goes."

 _Wait what_ , "As in… _right now_?"

He rolled his eyes, and made a gesture, " _Yes_ , Sam. _Now_."

My knees felt a little weak as I made my way toward him, and he took one of my arms and pulled me close, nearly making me stumble.

"You've…done this before, right?" He asked with a half-smile, cocking his head.

"How else would I have gotten money at the age of eleven?" I replied.

" _Ouch_." He smirked, "Get on your knees then, pretty boy. Show me how you do it."

I knelt down until my knees were touching the concrete, my head aligned with the lower half of his body, and I swallowed once more when I let my fingers unbuckle his belt. I didn't flick my gaze up to him, because I knew he would be watching what I did quite intently, so I unzipped his fly and—

" _Jesus_ , dude, okay, okay. You win mate."

— _What?_

I looked up to meet Ewan's expression, "What do you—"

"Sam, I was joking. I-I didn't mean it." He assured, chuckling.

 _Oh_ , fuck. Fuck. _Fuck_.

"Fuck." I breathed out as I got to my feet, and wandered backwards away from him, "Man, I fucking _hate_ you. You're—" I paused and pursed my lips in embarrassment as I turned on my heel, running my hands through my hair, "—a fucking _asshole_."

"Hey, _hey_ , c'mon, I was kidding," Ewan laughed. "If I really _was_ going to make you do that I would've given you the money first."

"Its really fucking scary how I genuinely thought you were wanting me to suck your cock." I responded.

He grinned, "Well, y'know…you _are_ pretty. I wouldn't mind if you—"

" _Okay_! I get the point. Thanks for embarrassing the hell outa me."

"Any time, sweetheart."

-

"Do you think he's okay?"

My assumption was in fact right when we came to a crossroad (Ewan had just decided we would go 'backwards' and retrace where we had driven, but somewhere along those lines we must have taken a wrong turn) which led to a garage (thank God) and a motel, so Ewan was able to get his hands on a few cheap lighters. Time was coming up to half eleven at night.

"That could be said in any context." Ewan stated huskily, smoke emitting from his parted lips as he rolled over onto his side to face me. I was seated beside him, and the back of my head rested against the headboard of the bed we were lying on.

"I mean in…general terms…" I rephrased, and he hummed.

"Well, I highly doubt that guy would hurt him badly. Maybe a few bruises, etcetera, but nothing too brutal. He should be okay."

"That _really_ makes _me_ feel better."

"Does it?"

"Did you not hear the fucking sarcasm?"

"Sorry, mate."

"It's fine." I sighed, and I licked my lips. "…I just hope…he knows we're looking for him."

Ewan took another puff from his cigarette, and he rolled onto his back, "That kid has guts to be fucking men twice as old as him."

"There really wasn't any other choice for him though. It was either that, or die." I responded. "…and speaking from my own experience I would've rather killed myself if I was ever in that position. Again."

Ewan looked at me. "Were you older?"

I gave a nod.

"That's why. When you're younger you're able to take in a lot more. Mentally. Nathan probably had no idea what the hell was happening until his client pushed him onto a bed or whatever. If he did, well, he's one clever little shit." He explained. "Other than that…yeah. I think he's okay. He's pretty strong for his age."

"You sure?"

He hesitated. "Yeah."

_That isn't the truth._

 


	33. Chapter 33

_Sam_

_~_

The next day and the day after that felt like we had gotten nowhere closer to Nathan. Ewan and I had came up with a brief overview on where to look, and where he could have been taken to in the last few days or so. Throughout our planning and thoughts, I could already begin to feel my patience slip away out of my grasp, and it was just the beginning. It was going to take time — but that wasn't acceptable. If we wanted to think about the situation logically and overall see things in a general aspect — we had already lost him. He would have already been gone, and we would have been _days_ late. There wasn't enough time.

Within twenty fours, _anything_ could have happened to Nathan.

_Anything._

Yet Ewan didn't seem to allow me to think that. I never mentioned my suggestion to him. I never would. The thought said aloud would have sent me crazy, besides constantly thinking it. However, I knew that _Ewan_ knew what I was thinking. Therefore considering him as a somewhat unpredictable person; he must have been thinking of the _exact_ same thing way before I did — perhaps back at the garage — the very moment he found me unconscious, and Nathan gone.

"Can we go?" I couldn't help but wonder every minute of the day what our pros and cons were to the problem. What if our options changed every hour, and we never knew they existed in that time? What if we missed the perfect chance just a day ago, and we could have ended the whole story right there? What if our options had changed for good?

Then—

"That's the fourth time you've asked that today, Sam. It's _late_. We _can't_. Understand that, alright?"

_—doesn't that mean Nathan is already dead?_

"Sorry."

I would never think once to forgive and assure myself into a fake and disrespectful warmth, all the while hoping the haunting guilt would stay outside the poorly made doors of what was called procrastination. I wasn't going to endure that for the rest of my life, even if things _did_ somehow get all of a sudden better, and I ended up with everything I had ever wanted — I'd still never forget it.

"What are you thinking right now?"

It was ten o'clock at night, and it was still light outside. The sky was a hue of blue and purple, and the sun's head was peeking out over the horizon, ready to leave for several hours. It was as if it was stretched along that one line, and that one line seemed like the end of the world from afar.

"I'm…not sure…" I responded, my voice quiet.

"Well, whatever it is you're _brooding_ over," Ewan let out a cough, "I suggest you quit it before the _inner Sam_ starts to cave in on you."

I frowned. "Inner what?"

" _You_." He said. "You'll start to go crazy if you don't give it a rest, mate. You won't like it. You won't be able to get to Nathan if you get yourself into a mental crisis, _plus_ ," he paused, let out a soft grunt as he buried half his face in a pillow, and closed his eyes, " _I'll_ be the one that has to deal with it."

Yes, you will.

"Sorry." I uttered again, and came away from the motel window, pulling the curtains over to block out the sky — the world.

Ewan grumbled tiredly, "You apologise when the shit _happens_ — and that shit _never_ will happen, so shut up and go to sleep before I fuckin' I make you." He muttered back flatly.

"Sure." He didn't hear my mouse-like reply, because my voice was barely audible when I slid into the space beside him, while making sure to leave a thin, invisible wall between the two of us. When I closed my eyes I could just imagine the view from the ceiling — it looked odd. It looked unfamiliar. It looked unfinished. It was _missing_ something.

-

"Tell me again, how are you so sure?"

"You _really_ don't know when to stop, do you?"

"Not really, no."

Ewan squeezed his eyes shut the moment the flash emitted from the camera, and through the small lens I was looking through, I watched him move out of my view with a curse. When the Polaroid slowly ejected, I noticed it was covered by a frog tongue.

" _Jesus_ , you could have at least told me that you were gonna take a picture." He said, rubbing his eyes.

"I think people look better if they're unaware they're being photographed." I answered as I took the picture and placed it in Nathan's rucksack, away from the daylight, reducing the chance of it developing over-exposed.

Ewan scoffed. "I bet I look a right mess."

"You already are."

He smiled, and sat down beside me on the grass, "Thanks, _Samuel_."

Five minutes later I took out the picture, and turned it over to find it fully developed in colour, but with slight light leaks around the edges. I had thought the leaks always made the picture look like it was burning inside the white frame; as if the person photographed was in pain. It was kinda stupid when I thought about it a lot more.

"You don't look _that_ bad." I said, and Ewan plucked the Polaroid from my fingers to have a look.

"I'm not even _looking_ at the camera." He chuckled, blinking at it. "But…you're actually…pretty good at taking photos, I gotta admit."

I sighed, "Flattery doesn't exactly work on me, just saying."

Ewan shook his head, and turned his head in my direction, "No no, I mean it. I think it's good. Really good." He gave the photo back to me.

"You don't want it?" I asked as he stood up, brushing the grass off the back of his jeans.

"What? Nah. I'd probably loose it. Keep it." He said, and took off across the gravel, his boots crunching with every step as he went to get his jacket.

It was early in the morning, and we had driven for at least an hour or more. Our surroundings still felt unfamiliar to me, meaning Ewan was leading us through a completely different route he didn't even know. It angered me for a little while, but I calmed down quickly after. He had officially and finally drilled the idea of 'everything being okay' into my head, which made me more relaxed. Not that that was an overall _good_ thing, of course.

A part of me still didn't fully trust Ewan.

Well, I wasn't sure whether it was _trust_ , or maybe…it was _him_ as a person I felt somewhat awkward around with. Maybe it wasn't trust. Maybe it was something else I just hadn't deciphered yet. He wasn't like most guys I had met with in the past, and that puzzled me. He was weird, but not in a bad way. Slightly unaware, and little delusional. What else was there?

"This lighter sucks."

Ewan had came back beside me. He was sat cross-legged with his jacket draped over his shoulders, and he was holding the cheaply made lighter he had bought earlier from the garage we last went to.

"Yours was better." He muttered.

I felt myself smile, "I'll give it to you if I find it."

"I think the wheel is broken on this one." He added, and I was sure he wasn't really listening to me. "Or maybe it's the rivet?"

"Probably both." I muttered back, and he flicked his gaze to where I was sat.

"Nathan might have taken your old lighter."

I blinked.

_Why though?_

"…What makes you think that?" I said. Ewan shrugged.

"I don't know. Young kids wake up earlier than us. You wake up second. Maybe he…had look in your jean pockets when you weren't looking." He suggested quietly, and then, after numerous attempts of trying to get the lighter work, a flame lit along with a sharp spark, " _Finally_."


	34. Chapter 34

_Sam_

 

_~_

 

I felt quite isolated when I woke up. Even though Ewan was right beside me and I could feel his body heat, I still felt cut-off from reality. It was as if my conscience was in another world, far away and outside of time, but my body was here in the present. It felt as if Nathan was somewhere outside of time too.

"…What if everything in the world isn't real." I said aloud.

Ewan let out a grunt from behind me, and I felt the bed shift for a moment. He had rolled over.

"Then looking for your kid would be pointless…" He grumbled.

"But what if _some_ of us are real." I added. He hummed.

"…Then I'm just a figment of your imagination." He responded.

I felt my heart skip a beat when he said that.

The bed shifted once more, and I felt his weight move closer to where I lay, and I felt his shadow hesitatingly lean over one of my shoulders.

"What if _you're_ real," he said gently, his voice husky, "and I'm not?" He paused, waiting for a reply, but I didn't give him one, so he continued, "What would you do without me?"

 

* * *

 

It was meant to be Summer, yet there was no sun. No warmth. Maybe Spring wasn't ready to let go yet?

"I hope it stops."

It had started raining. At the beginning, it wasn't so bad; it was light, but then after several minutes of driving it had began to get heavier every second. Ewan made his point clear on why he wouldn't continue driving until the rain stopped, and as bad and foolish as it sounded, I silently agreed with him.

"You don't like rain?" I asked him from where I was sat — on a boulder under a thick umbrella of pine leaves; near the cliff side we were still scouting round. We were currently shrouded in a mild mist, along with the unsettling surrounding of a forest — and, well, the rain too.

"It's not that I don't _like_ it," Ewan began, stubbing out the cigarette he'd finished. He squished it with the face of his boot, into the edge of the concrete road before retreating back to where I was seated. "It just…gives me bad times."

As he sat down beside me our shoulders brushed, and I replied, "Like what?"

He let out a laugh, but I could tell he hadn't meant for it to sound as humorous as it did; he cleared his throat quickly after.

"A lot of stuff happened around this time for me." He said, without making any eye contact. "…There were a lot of summer storms when… _reality_ …started to…y'know, sink in to my head." He swallowed as he clasped his hands together — for warmth, "It wasn't a nice experience."

"I…don't know if I can relate. It's kinda vague." I said. Ewan blinked, and his eyes met my own then.

"You don't have to." He said quietly. "It's not like I want you to. Besides, you've the exact same problems as I do, so there's no need."

I frowned, "What? I do?"

"In different contexts." He added. "Nathan has the same too."

"He's got a lot more of them, though." I muttered back.

Ewan hummed. The low hum of his voice sounded gentle, more gentler than usual, and it made some sort of sentimentality bloom in the pit of my stomach.

"I think we've all had the unwelcome person let into our lives, don't ya think?" He said with a sideways glance.

" _People_." I felt myself automatically correct him, and he hummed once more.

Ewan blinked twice. "What, you've had more than one at a time in bed?"

That caught me off guard.

"What? _No_ — what the fuck? No, I…didn't mean it like that."

"You sure?"

"One-hundred-percent sure."

"Well… _I_ definitely have." He spoke with playful exaggeration. It made the topic sound funny when it clearly wasn't something to be joked about like that. If anything it could have been considered quite offending to some, depending on how people interpreted it.

In return, I scoffed. "I'm not surprised."

He let out a laugh, and leant back against the rock's smooth surface. It was covered in a thin sheet of moss. "You're not surprised that its _happened_? Or the fact that I've had more than one in bed?"

"Both." I said without meeting his gaze.

We were silent a while after that. Until:

"Sam."

I looked across to him. "What?"

Ewan took a moment to think before he spoke again. "Never mind."

I didn't push it. "Sure."

 

* * *

 

When we settled down into another motel, the conversation that took place earlier when it was raining lingered in the back of my head. It wouldn't leave if I didn't continue it somehow. What was Ewan meaning to ask?

"What were you going to ask me?"

It was dark in the bedroom. The curtains were pulled shut.

"It was nothing." He said. "It's not my place to ask things like that."

I blinked, and swallowed. _What?_

"No, tell me." I wanted to know now. He made it too obvious, the prick.

He let out a soft sigh. "If…Nathan insisted on… _y'know_ , would you…do it?"

I had thought about it, yes. Many times before. Nathan had a rather coquettish aura about him. It wasn't his fault, he had grown accustomed to it from an early age, all because of his surroundings. I was sure any other child would have turned out like him with that type of attention he was receiving. _I_ would have turned out like that, no doubt.

"I'm not sure." I answered. "Maybe."

Ewan turned over in the bed, away from me. "Hm."

"Why?"

"I don't know. I just thought of it. I've…just got a bad feeling."

"About _that_?"

"Well…yeah."

I closed my eyes, and yawned. "So, you're saying you're psychic?"

He didn't respond then. And I was too tired to even remember what I said. I remember falling asleep straight after that.

 

 


	35. Chapter 35

_Sam_

_~_

I always wondered how long it would take to find Nathan. We had no real plans to find him, no trail, and no solution. After three weeks with nothing Ewan was already losing his motivation to keep going with it. It was motel after motel, constant driving. We asked a few people if they had seen anything, during the drive where we figured Nathan might have passed through, but we got no luck.

Ewan could have left right then and there if he really wanted to. It wasn't his responsibility, and it wasn't exactly his place to be helping me. He didn't have to. In fact, I didn't have to either. But the desire was there to do so, which told me a lot, and it assured me that I wasn't going mad.

After those three weeks I dreaded every day that came by. I wondered what Nathan would have went through in the hours we were driving, when we woke up, and when we went to sleep.

There was a man there.

Something about him wasn't nice.

 _Yet it felt familiar_.

"We're taking a break."

I had long forgotten the trail Nathan and I had taken when we first took off together, and when we met Ewan halfway through there. I don't think the mental mapping was with me anymore. I couldn't do it. I wasn't sure whether the majority of what I was feeling was stress, or tiredness. It was probably both. I had tried to stop smoking last week. I didn't feel good a few days later. The urge would pass sometimes, and when it did, it made me feel hungry for some reason.

"You want anything to drink?"

I met Ewan's gaze from where he was stood, wallet in hand.

I gave a nod. "Water."

I leant against my bike, and scuffed the soles of my boots, and glanced down at my feet, and thought.

The gravel I was so used to seeing had somehow changed into concrete road, and the air around me felt different. It felt cluttered. I could smell the faint, pungent scent of petrol from somewhere. There was that rain smell too.

I looked around, over my left shoulder.

It was early morning. Something like seven I'm sure. It was bright. It was bright, but clouded. The clouds made the daylight seem silvery in shine, and it had an unwelcoming, rather eerie aura about it. Not that it bothered me, but it was something to think about.

There was the city, too. All the high street shops were still shut, except for the garage we were currently at, and no one was about the streets. The tall buildings felt abandoned. The terraced houses felt locked away from the outside. Some laundry was hung on lines on the balconies, and the fabrics gently moved in waves with the breeze that occasionally passed. There was a black rook pecking at a paper coffee cup not far from where I was stood. The rolling sound of it barrelled in different directions.   
  
Apart from that everything was still.

I blinked, and turned my head to the right to see a bridge. It led out into what looked like some trees, and there was something behind that. It was a building of some sort. Maybe an old church; a school, probably.

I couldn't see it properly, because of the distance, and it strained my eyes. Just before the end of the bridge was what looked like a few blocks, and some terraced houses along that. Maybe apartments.

It made me think of where I partly lived in the city. I had left the place in a state, and at some point when Ewan was still hanging around he went in there too for whatever reason.

I frowned to myself. _Why did he go in there again?_

"I got you water."

I blinked when I heard Ewan's voice, and I saw him hold out a bottle to me. I took it. He held something else out.

"Eat it." He said, and pushed it into my other palm. He wandered back to his bike, and climbed on to it, and sat.

I blinked twice, and looked at what he'd given me. "What is it?"

"Like — nougat. I think." He answered.

I didn't look twice and opened the wrapper, smelling the faint, somewhat comforting aroma of chocolate. I felt peckish anyway. When I bit into it, my teeth sank through a thick, sweet chewy substance, and I made a face at the texture.

"What the _fuck_." I said through chews. Ewan let out a snort.

"What, you don't like it?"

"No, it's not that," I replied. It was that type of candy that would get stuck between your teeth. "It's just — _really hard to eat_."

"But does it taste good?"

"Oh, shut up."

He laughed.

Minutes later after that we were sat on the curb, Ewan smoking and trying to set alight a canister of aerosol spray. It was likely to be what he had left over. He might as well get a new one at some point.

"Shit."

Out of the corner of my eye I saw fire light out of thin air, and the smell made me want to choke the moment I breathed it in. The flickering orange vanished as quick as it lighted.

"Are you stupid?" I said, looking at him.

He gave a shrug, and tried to spray the canister once more, but nothing came out. He swore.

"You'd don't find fire fun?" He responded with a slightly curious grin.

I remembered Nathan made a comment similar to that.

"Well, it gives a thrill, doesn't it?" I said. My eyes wandered past his gaze to what was laid behind him. I could see the city's bridge from here; the one I was gazing over at earlier. "and it's dangerous."

"It's deeper than that, _pretty boy_." Ewan chuckled, and something in his eyes changed. I kept looking at the bridge. "It's kinda hard to explain, actually."

"Uh-huh." I wasn't really listening. I was thinking completely off-tangent, but I still engaged in the conversation. "How's it hard to explain?"

Then, it happened.

Pure shock flooded through my body, and ropes burned inside my chest as they tightened around my ribs. In a matter of seconds, I could practically hear my heart hammer inside my ears. A moment ago everything was still. Now it was as if everything had been forced into instant full-throttle adrenaline.

"We're _home_." I said. I couldn't believe it. I had no idea it was happening in front of me. _Right in front_ of my fucking face — it was _all_ there. Everything was _right there._

"We're what?" By the looks of it, Ewan hadn't latched on to what I was experiencing.

I met his gaze. "We're home. Here. _Now_. _Right now_."

He frowned. "We are?"

I didn't respond, but stood up from the curb and looked over to where the bridge was. I had sat underneath that bridge with Nathan. I had given him my jacket to wear because it was cold that day, and he had rested his head against my shoulder.

My apartment was here too.

Holy _shit_.

"Why do I feel like I'm hyperventilating?" I started. Ewan snorted again.

"Nah." He looked up to me from the curb. "You look like you've just found out you're a nineteen-year-old dad."

_Nathan's house._

Oh my God — what if he's _here_?

"We need to go. Now."

Almost immediately Ewan had something negative to say to me when I made a move for my bike.

"That doesn't sound good." He said, his eyes sharp as he got to his feet.

It was all piecing together now. I could finally come to a conclusion. I had the chance of being able to predict what might _just_ be real.

"Ewan, Nathan told me his foster mother had a boyfriend. What if that guy was him and he took Nathan back here?"

Ewan bit the inside of his lip, silent. I continued.

"Nathan could be here. Right now. Christ, Ewan, we're literally ten fucking minutes away from the house—"

"Alright alright, calm yourself," Ewan came close. "We'll…take a look."

"What's wrong?"

He shrugged, and pulled over his rucksack. "Nothing," He took out his gun and slipped it into his jacket pocket. "If he's here, his kidnapper will still be with him."

 

 


	36. Chapter 36

_Sam_

_~_

I knew there was a small chance to my predication. I couldn't be sure. But it didn't hurt to try and confirm that.

"…Is that really necessary?" I said to Ewan, glancing at the right side of his jacket. It was early in the day, meaning everyone had to be either still sleeping, or just beginning to wake for work or whatever else they were having to do today. The block Nathan lived on was always quiet. I had established that the moment I visited in the beginning. The people there weren't like the others that lived in the centre of the city.

"Yes." Ewan answered quietly as he got off his bike. I swallowed.

We parked a block away from where we were going, and walked the rest of the way there. I didn't see how that made the whole thing more 'discreet', but I didn't argue over it. Ewan had a weird sort of look on his face the way there, and he was unusually quiet. His humour was hiding away too, and it unsettled me.

"There." I said, and stopped in my tracks. He stood beside me.

"The left or right?" He countered lowly as we looked up to the row of terraced houses. I indicated the left, and he gave a soft nod.

The house hadn't changed a bit. The railing was still black and badly lacquered, the paint dripping until it eventually stuck like that, hanging on to the underside of the metal. The curtains and shutters that could be seen from the front were pulled over, blocking out the daylight. My eyes moved to the pipe than ran up along the corner of the house, the top of the gutter half-cracked—the one I broke—and I found Nathan's window. It was all the same.

"I remember making a comment about your backside when you were monkeying yourself up the side of this place."

I felt myself smile a little. His humour was surfacing now.

"I thought you'd never remember." I said, and he grinned. He made his way to the bottom of the metal staircase, and he turned to me.

"You find your kid, okay?"

I made a face. "Why, what're you gonna do?"

One corner of his mouth quirked to the right. "Well, y'know, I think I'll…take a look around…to see if there's someone else there too. Y'get me?"

I hesitated for a moment, unsure, but nodded afterwards. No wonder he checked to see if the handgun he had was loaded. He took it out of his pocket and slid it under the waistband of his jeans, at one side.

"Ladies first."

I was sure he could sense how nervous I was when I hesitated to step up onto the railed stairs.

"Dick."

"I was just being considerate."

"Sure."

He smiled.

Everything felt surreal in that moment when we reached the top of the staircase. The tension hung high in the air around us, and I felt like I was the only one that was on the verge of breaking into a panic. Ewan was stood close beside me, tongue-in-cheek.

"Open it." He whispered.

"What? No, you open it." I countered.

I wanted to laugh when he made a face as the final response, but my throat felt dry with anxiety. His dark eyes flicked to me when he didn't even have to open the door. It just somehow pushed open itself when he touched the brass handle, just a few inches. The hinges didn't squeak when it happened.

Oh, _God_ —

"You look for your kid, okay?" He said, his voice barely audible. I gave a nod. Just before he went ahead and opened the door fully, I was about to ask what he was going to do whilst I went and looked for Nathan. Right after I was glad I hadn't asked, and I had kept my mouth shut; it was probably best I didn't know what he was going to do, or _what_ he was planning to do.

The first thing I noticed was the poorly plastered walls in the short hallway, and what appeared to be cheap laminate flooring. The hallway quickly opened into what I guessed was the lounge space, and the kitchen was beside it, all in one room. There was an ashtray on the glass coffee table in front of one of the couches. Burned out cigarettes were piled in to it. Numerous bills and receipts were scattered. An empty shot glass sat there too along with a wallet and a set of keys.

Ewan slipped past me quietly, and forwarded to the other side of the house.

It felt like I couldn't move from where I was stood. It was silent. I could hear my own breathing in the room if I tried to focus on it. I bit my lip, and stood for a moment longer to take in what I was seeing. Several pieces of clothing were slung over the back of the one couch; they lay as if they were torn off in a hurry, or in a violent manner, something like that. _Urgently_.

"There's no one here."

I almost jumped out of my skin, and hissed. " _What_?"

"I don't think there's anyone here." Ewan repeated. He was whispering. Why was he whispering if he said there was no one here?

I blinked. "Have you checked all the rooms?"

"Sam, there's only a bathroom and two bedrooms—" he stopped, mid-sentence, and glanced behind him. "—one of them is shut."

"You mean it's locked?" I asked. He shrugged.

I looked over to the coffee table, and my eyes settled on the set of keys. I reached down and picked them up. They felt cold.

"Which room?"

"The one on the left down here."

The bedrooms were around one corner of the house, down a small corridor, and we passed the bathroom. In one of the rooms, the door was wide open, revealing an unmade, messy double bed.

"Here." Ewan said in a breath, indicating the one directly opposite. I followed his gaze to the shut door.

I remember Nathan saying he had his own room at one point. When I climbed up to his window I ended up in his bedroom. Come to think of it I never actually remembered what it looked like.

"I hope it's one of these?" I said, my voice hushed, unsure as I looked through the keys.

"It's the big one." Ewan replied quietly. He pointed at the keyhole, and he was right. "They're old doors."

I picked out the biggest one of the lot, and slotted it in the keyhole and unlocked it, feeling the turn when I twisted it—

_"Who the fuck is in my house?"_

I was positive that my heart stopped in that second.

My stomach flipped at the unfamiliar voice that echoed from the front door, just around the corner from where we were stood. I gulped.

The voice was male.

The bedroom door unlocked just as we heard heavy footsteps, the key still slotted in place, and I suddenly felt myself being shoved into the room by Ewan — whom slammed the door shut without any comment, the loud sound echoing, and I was sure he locked it just as quickly. My hands and elbows hit the floor first, and I hissed at the slight pain of being forcefully shoved through a doorway, and turned over to get back up.

_What the fuck was happening?! Christ, I should have known he was going to do something stupid like this!_

I was already breathing heavily with the increasing adrenaline, and I couldn't help but let my anger surface at what had just happened, so I shouted. "Ewan what the _fuck_?!"

The stranger's voice could be heard behind the door, and there were a series of staggering footsteps. Panic was filing itself into my chest, and a weird mix of emotion and signals were pressed into me all at once, and I couldn't even begin to think of what to do in a situation like this.

"Fuck, _fuck_ ," I instinctively started to curse as I pressed myself against the door, in hope that Ewan wasn't going to recklessly pull the trigger. "Oh, God, _no_."

Clueless, I turned around to see a single bed.

And then, it was like everything was plunged underwater.

My head automatically blocked out the unwanted voices and sounds, all that made me feel unwell, and I held my breath as I walked over to the bed.

A body lay under the sheet.

It was small. It was small enough to be a child's.

The way it had itself curled on its side was too familiar. It lay facing the wall in front, under the sheet.

I let go of my breath.

_It lay unmoving._


	37. Chapter 37

_Sam_

_~_

Nathan was under the sheet.

I stood there for a minute or so, trying to take in what I was seeing. It felt like time had stopped for me when I looked at the many marks and bruises that practically painted his bare legs, from his scabby ankles to his thighs. Faint bite marks littered his shoulders. Now that he was laid naked in clear, grey daylight that emitted from the bedroom window, I realised this was the first time I'd seen him so exposed, and so unaware that anyone could easily take advantage of him right now—without him knowing.

I reached one hand over to him, and spread my fingers along one of his shoulders, and gently turned him onto his back. A sickly feeling pooled into one niche of my stomach where arousal would have usually settled, and it replaced that whilst it slept, and finally demolished it when I saw that Nathan had a black eye. There was a small graze at his right brow.

"Nathan," I whispered, my voice shuddering when I leant closer. I cupped one side of his face, his skin still soft with youth, and then, when I tilted his head up, his lips parted. I whispered once more. He had to be awake. He was still breathing. "Nathan, it's me, Sam."

_Come on, kid._

The underwater sensation stopped when his eyes flew open, and instantly met my own, and another shout was heard from behind the door.

He was awake. He was alive. He was _breathing_ , "It's me." I said. He blinked slowly. He looked tired. "You're with me." I said again, much quieter, in case I'd startled him awake. Nathan only gave a frail little nod as a response, his eyes dark and sunken when he blinked once more.

"Ewan and I are gonna get you outa here, okay?" He was probably too shocked to even speak to me. Well, I assured myself with that thought. I didn't want to dwell too much on the reason why he wasn't saying anything. I would get to that later.

I looked around his pale, bare room, and got up from the bed and went to the set of drawers that were pushed up against the wall, in search of some clothes for him. I found a pair of jeans and a t-shirt for him to put on, along with some underwear.

When I coaxed him into trying to sit up, he let out a soft grunt of discomfort, and for a second I wondered if there were even more bruises along his back.

I hesitated at first. "Is there…more bruises on your back?"

He didn't look at me right away, but when he did, he didn't nod. After I helped him in to the clothes, that was when I noticed everything had gone silent. I was aware of the shouting and whatnot that was going on behind the closed door; probably taking place in the open kitchen or lounge, but now, just in a matter of seconds, I could hear nothing but my own breathing and Nathan's occasional shuffles on the bed.

"Who is he?" I whispered to him, and his eyes rolled to meet my own. His lips parted, but he didn't speak.

"The guy who took you." I said again. Nothing.

"Nathan."

Nothing.

"Who's the guy who took you?"

Still nothing.

I let out a sigh and got up from the bed.

I went to the closed door and there was a gunshot, and my body froze.

There was a muffled thump outside the door, and I pressed my ear to it.

Five minutes later the door unlocked itself, and Ewan appeared with a bloody lip.

"Is he there?" He asked, his voice quiet. He was wearing a pair of leather gloves I hadn't seen before.

"Yeah. He is." I responded, and he gave a brief nod.

"Get whatever else you need, then we'll go to your apartment." He stepped back from the doorway, and was about to turn on his heel before I asked him one more thing.

"Who shot who?"

He stopped, and turned around. He snorted. "What do you think?”

Oh. Right.

 

* * *

 

Nathan still hadn't said anything, and I didn't push him to. When I was packing a set of clothes for him to take he was off the bed and was stood on his feet. He tapped my shoulder when I was knelt down in front of his set of drawers, his rucksack in front of me.

I turned around to see him stood above me, and he held something in my direction. He dropped a metal lighter into my palm.

It was the lighter I thought I'd lost along the way here.

"…Where'd you get this?" I questioned without making eye-contact, flipping the metal cap of the lighter back and forth, and checked if the flame still lighted.

I felt him slip his arms around my neck, and he pressed his forehead to one of my shoulder blades as a reply. I put the lighter in my pocket, and continued with what I was doing—him half-attached to my back like a monkey—knowing every conversation I tried to make was going to be one-sided for God knows how long.

 

* * *

 

It all felt very unreal to me when Ewan had told me he murdered the man that came through the front door after us.

I wasn't surprised, actually, because the moment I heard the gunshot I knew. I felt rather numb. I couldn't think properly, and I briefly wondered if he knew that, and I hoped he took that into consideration for future reference. To help him be more aware. He probably thought I didn't want anything to do with him, knowing the way he thinks. He could be a bit stupid, come to think of it.

"Where…did you put him?" I asked. There was no sign of blood when Nathan and I left his bedroom.

Ewan's eyes glanced away from mine. "Somewhere safe. Why?"

I stared at him, and lowered my voice an octave. "You just shot someone. Where the _fuck_ did you put the _body_?"

He shrugged his shoulders, and stuck a hand down one of his jean pockets. "Why should you care? You're not the one who did it." I saw that he had blood underneath his fingernails when he handed me some more money, "I'll see you out."

As he went and left the building I stood there in the middle of the lounge; for a minute or so, slightly bewildered.

I felt Nathan at my side then.

"Ready?" I asked him, and he gave a nod.

 

* * *

 

The drive through the city felt warm and fuzzy. Familiar in places too. I didn't know if I should call it a nice feeling, but whether or not it was good or bad, I felt at peace.

When we got to the apartment, I dreaded what state it would be in. I couldn't remember what it looked like when I had left, and Ewan was here too before.

"You're not staying?" I asked, once I'd opened the door.

Ewan shook his head, a little hesitant. "I uh, need to clear my head a little."

"Oh. Okay. Sure." I swallowed. "You'll stop by tomorrow?"

He nodded. "Yeah." 

 


	38. Chapter 38

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to thank whoever has stuck with this book from the beginning, just a reminder, to let you guys know that it means the absolute world to me that you’re reading my works, it’s just a really amazing feeling, thanks <3

_Sam_

_~_

My apartment was still the same.

Not much had changed. It was as if a part of me was hoping that when I opened the front door everything would be spotless and free from mess. I had expected Ewan to have done something I would notice, but there was nothing. I couldn’t really tell the difference.

There was a disconnection between Nathan I the moment we walked into the space. He walked away from me to look around. His steps were small and quiet. I remembered that he had never been here.

“I’m going to run you a bath.” I said, after I’d set our bags down, and when I turned to face him he wasn’t looking at me. He was staring at the blank wall I used to stick notes and reminders on. There was a few photos under the pages, I think. Nathan had heard me.

I went to my pokey bathroom and glanced around it to familiarise myself again; where I had put the towels and body wash and whatnot, it was like my head was re-programming everything. It felt too surreal.

When I felt the water run warm I shut off the tap once the bath was deep enough, and brought two towels to hang over the radiator that was in the bathroom.

I left to go find Nathan, and found him in my bedroom. He was stood at the end of the double bed. I had left the sheets unwashed and ruffled. I’d better change them tonight.

“The water’s warm.” I said from the open doorway. He turns and our eyes meet for a second before he glances back down at the floor. He nods, and I lead him to the bathroom. I feel really awkward. I wonder whether he feels the same.

Nathan takes off his t-shirt first, slowly, almost painfully. The bruises are there along his back. He’s pale. Skinny. Skinnier than before.

I’m about to leave when he speaks. His voice is soft. Too soft. Quiet. Hurt.

“Sam?”

_It’s all he’s said today._

I turn, “Yeah?” I thought he would have wanted some privacy.

He blinks at me, “Can you help me?”

I swallowed. “Sure.”

The bathroom light flickers.

I didn’t know what I was meant to be doing. My body was starting to feel fuzzy. When Nathan pulled off the last of his clothes—jeans and underwear—I turned my back to him to get the body wash from the sink cupboard, silently hoping he was going to get in the water before I turned around again. But he didn’t. I knew he didn’t.

Instead he spoke, “You’ve seen everything already.”

I wait for the sound of water, but I don’t hear it.

“I’m trying to be respectful.” I said. _Just get in the fucking bath._

“Well you’re trying too hard.” I heard him slip into the water, and I turned round to see him staring at me. I took a facecloth and got down on my knees and leant over the tub to him.

“You should get in.” He said, and I ignored him. I couldn’t. It didn’t feel right. Why was he suggesting it?

I shook my head, and soaked the facecloth in the warm water. I poured some of the body wash into my hand, and he said quietly, after I hadn’t replied, “Be gentle.”

The light flickers again.

“I will.” I responded. I tried not to look at the bite marks on his shoulders.

His skin still felt soft under my fingers, but I could feel how tender the marks were. They felt even more soft. Nathan winces when I smooth the facecloth across his shoulders. I can feel his gaze on me. He’s wanting something. But he doesn’t want to ask.

I’m about to wash the front of his chest when the bathroom light suddenly shuts off, and then we’re both sitting in complete darkness.

“ _Shit_.” I cursed, and muttered to myself, “I hope the other lights haven’t done that as well.”

“It might come back on.” Nathan said. He felt like a ghost. I heard the sound of water.

I keep my grip on the side of the bathtub.

“Yeah.”

There was nothing else said then. It was just silence. But it didn’t feel awkward. Maybe that was because of the dark. The darkness helped a bit. We didn’t have to look at each other.

But then something happened.

I felt wet, cold, slim little fingers rest over the back of my right hand. I felt them hesitantly move up my wrist, and then I felt another set of fingers rest over my left hand. They both brushed up my bare forearms, and then swept up to touch my throat—and then I found them cupping my face—ever so gently.

Nathan’s thumbs caressed my cheekbones.

I swallowed.

It was so quiet. I felt warm. Really warm.

I felt his breath hit my lips. There’s space there.

He closes the space out.

I tilt my head.

Then we’re kissing.


	39. Chapter 39

_Sam_

 

_~_

 

Oh _God_.

Oh God oh God oh _God_.

_I need to calm the fuck down._

The lights flicker back on the moment Nathan pulls away from my lips, his hands falling from my cheeks, and I felt myself follow after him. Embarrassment flooded into me.

“I-I’m sorry.” He stammered, and for an instant I forgot how to talk. I forgot how to think. I didn’t know what had happened. Nathan looked distressed when I opened my mouth to speak, probably dreading what I was going to say, what I was going to haul off onto him—but nothing came out.

 _God, Sam, save it_ , “No, no,” I said. I bit my lip, “God, no, don’t say sorry—“ I stopped myself. I closed my eyes. I ran my hands through my hair to calm myself down, and I sucked in a breath. I shouldn’t be the one who’s panicking. _He_ should be panicking. _I_ should be the one comforting the fuck out of him. _I_ should be the one saying it’s okay and _I_ should be the one that’s full of forgiveness and love and everything I’m not and don’t have— _I can’t express anything right._

“Don’t apologise.” I forced, “ _Don’t_.”

He blinked, his expression seeming emotionally-detached, and he looked down at his hands. Into the water.

The rising warmth that was always there inside me bloomed. It spilled. It smashed through my thoughts and poisoned the disturbance. _It helped_. It made me reach forward then without thinking, and it made me cup his face, and it let him move to kiss me again, harder this time, and I pulled him close—I feel him soak my t-shirt with his wet skin—and, _fuck_. Just, _fuck_.

Our mouths are sloppy, our teeth are hitting and catching, our are lips wet and rough, we are human all the way through to our bones and to the hair on the backs of our necks, and it’s hard to find the enjoyment in the sudden arousal. _Fuck, was it arousal?_ I had no idea, because nothing about it was the romantic cliché. Nothing about it was pretty, there was no red string of fate lingering around us. Nothing about it made me want to have sex with him. It’s real. _Too_ real.

_The reality takes away the joy._

Nathan opens his eyes for a moment, and we stop. I ran my fingers through his hair, and rested my palms at the back of his neck. He pressed his forehead against mine.

“We should have done this sooner.” He whispered, and I hummed in agreement.

“Yeah.” I whispered back. My throat felt dry.

“Are you scared?”

I hesitated. “A little.”

“Why?”

“I haven’t done this in a long time.”

He presses his chapped lips against mine. He doesn’t taste of anything. I wanted him to taste of sweets. Everything nice. “That’s okay.”

“I mean…I’ve never been with someone as young as you.” I rephrased. He caresses my cheeks, and he touches my jaw. I swallowed—maybe it was a gulp, I don’t know—and he notices.

“Are you nervous?” He asks, gentle. _God, the roles have really switched now._

I open my mouth, and I hesitate again, “I-I don’t know.” I licked my lips, “I think so. A little bit. I’m not sure.”

He kisses me once more, for longer, and it’s softer, and maybe passionate, but I couldn’t figure it out. I didn’t know the feeling. It was different and unfamiliar.

“Have you thought of fucking me?”

His stare was cold. It’s numb, far from cold actually. His tone sounded mechanical. Commanding.

“Why would you ask that?” I replied with a slight frown. He pulls his hands away from my face.

“I’m not _stupid_.” He states. His voice was rising.

“I…didn’t say you were.” I countered.

“Then why won’t you admit it?”

Nathan looks like he’s on the verge of having a mental breakdown. One minute he was calm and we’re kissing _we’re fucking kissing_ and now he’s ready to rip my fucking head off. All in the midst of me bathing him—and now it’s all just gotten thicker.

I’m overall confused at this point. “Admit?”

“I’ve seen the way you look at me.”

 _Oh, now I get it—_ “Nathan, it’s not like that.”

His voice quietens, and the anger quickly numbs, “Don’t lie to me.”

“I’m not lying.”

Was it a lie?

I had never thought things would turn out like this. That was the result of running away somewhere. I think if it had been with anyone else things would be a lot different.

Nathan’s expression softens, like he’s debating with himself.

“…You just have to trust me on that one.” I added, and he glanced downwards.

_Does it count if I’ve given my all to my self-control?_

I swish the bath water, and the warmth wasn’t there. It wasn’t in my stomach either.

“You’ll catch a cold,” I said to Nathan, “Let’s get you out.”

 

* * *

 

I think it was a lot to take in.

Maybe I was overwhelmed with it all, after weeks and weeks being glued to Ewan and now I’m sleeping beside Nathan, it all felt too surreal to be actually happening. Maybe I was just tired. Like, _really tired_. I felt at peace with myself that night we went to sleep, so maybe I was. I just needed to sleep on it. The next morning everything would be great.

Right?

I gave Nathan clean clothes and changed the bedsheets before he rolled himself into them, and I got in beside him after I’d turned out the light.

He shuffled.

_We aren’t sleeping close._

_We’re distant._

The room was warm.

_We didn’t need each other._

“What now?” Nathan is the first to speak, and I open my eyes to the dark ceiling.

I sighed through my nose, “I don’t know.”

“What did Ewan do to him?”

 _Him?_ —oh.

I sighed again, “I don’t know. He shot him. I don’t know where he put him. Who was he?”

“Boyfriend.”

I was about to ask, ‘your’s?’, which was just fucking stupid, _Jesus fucking Christ_ , but then I remembered about the woman Nathan was living with. I don’t think she _really was_ a foster mother. I didn’t believe everything Nathan told me, despite how close we were with each other. He had secrets.

So did I.

I decided to pry a little, “What happened to…”

“Foster mother?” Nathan finished for me, and I hummed.

“Drug overdose.”

“Oh.”

_Okay. Was definitely not expecting that._

“Boyfriend rolled her up in a rug.” He continued, “he and his friend dumped her somewhere.”

I gave a nod, and didn’t say anything else, because really, _what the fuck was I meant to say to that?_ ‘I’m sorry?’ _No way. I’m pretty sure that woman made his life hell._

“Did he hurt you?” I asked, and I immediately regretted even opening my mouth. _Of course he hurt him._

“Well, yeah. He _did_.“

“Did you try to run away?”

“Yeah. One or twice. I didn’t have anything though. I had no money,” he turned over onto his side, facing me, “I didn’t want to go and get myself picked up by another stranger either. I promised you.”

I thought of Ewan. “You took my lighter.” I said.

“I borrowed it.”

“Why?”

“I was ready to set the house on fire.”

“You’re kidding.”

“I burned the side of his face, though.”

“Wow.”

He let out a soft chuckle, and I smiled tiredly.

“Did you think of me?” He then murmured.

The question made me think. It made me think of everything that had happened when Ewan and I were looking for him. I wanted to laugh at it all. I finally found it funny. Now that it was over and everything was back to normal I could laugh at it.

“I never stopped.” I said, and then let out a breathless chuckle, “there’s a lot I need to tell you.” I thought of Ewan again. I remembered.

Interest grew in Nathan’s voice, “Like what?”

“He almost joked me into giving him a blowjob. _Almost_.”

We talked for hours then.

It felt as if we were the only ones that existed when we talked.

It was like time didn’t exist.

Time was _nothing_.

We owned it when we spoke to one another.

I felt really light. I felt happy. Genuinely. And _fuck_ —you didn’t get that everyday. Being happy came with a price, if you were me.

Nathan fell asleep against my chest that night. Although, it took a while for me to fall asleep after he did. I wasn’t sure why. I think I had worked myself up to the point where I couldn’t even close my eyes I felt so happy with everything.

I closed my eyes anyway.

Things were okay. I could assure myself. Everything was good.

I wondered to myself before I eventually drifted off. I thought about what Nathan had first asked:

_What now?_

 


	40. Chapter 40

_Sam_

_~_

“One day I’m gonna be telling my kids if you didn’t listen to _The Smiths_ you weren’t cool.”

“You really think _you’re_ gonna get kids?”

“If I don’t I’ll steal some and make them my own. They’ll be the better versions of me.”

It was approximately half eight in the morning, the streets quiet as per usual, and the three of us were sat in a breakfast dinner. Nathan and I hadn’t said anything about what happened last night in the bath, and I could feel that neither of us were ready to bring it up again, whether or not we wanted to, I wasn’t sure. I just hoped Ewan wouldn’t fucking trigger anything.  
  
“That’s a good way to put it.” Nathan said, a red-and-blue straw between his lips. Ewan nodded with a grin, and he looked at me then, for a comment. My rating.

“I don’t know, man.” I said, and he rolled his eyes.

“If you had kids what would you do?”

“I wouldn’t have kids, that’s my answer.”

Nathan sniggered, and I smiled.

“You don’t look like the family man anyway.” Ewan said, a little sarcastic, “You look like the hit-and-miss kinda type.”

“ _Thanks_.” I responded flatly. Nathan nudged my side playfully.

He cocked his head at me with a smug grin. “You’re very welcome.”

I sipped at the drink I had ordered when Ewan started on a conversation with Nathan, telling him something about how I kept kneeing him in the side in every motel bed we slept in. Nathan found it funny, especially the details, he giggled at those. All the while that happened I thought to myself. I remembered the Polaroid camera Nathan had and the book he kept with the writing, and the picture of that girl—Elena.

I really wanted to ask him about that.

“Nathan,” I began. He turned his head to me, in the midst of smiling at something Ewan had told him, probably something embarrassing.

“Yeah?” He said.

“Who’s Elena?”

When his innocent little smile leaves, a heavy silence is thrown over every one of us, and I could practically feel everything we were thinking. Ewan’s eyes had changed, and Nathan’s expression had softened into a slight frown.

Why don’t you ever keep your fucking mouth shut?

“…I shouldn’t have asked that.”

Nathan blinks twice at me, “What? No, no, it’s fine. I…I was gonna tell you about her anyway. Just…not now.”

“Who’s Elena?” Ewan chirps, and I feel like throwing my glass of juice at his head to make him shut up. Nathan sends him a half-smile.

“…She was this girl I was friends with.” He said, swallowing, “We didn’t really get along at first because she and her family were like…y’know…they _had_ somewhere. I didn’t. Then…” I really regretted it now. He was struggling. I could see it happening right in front of me. But there was something else there.

Nathan’s eyes met mine when he forgot what he was about to say, and we stared at each other for I don’t know how long. It was like he was trying to figure something out. It was as if he was searching for something—in me—but he wasn’t coming across it. He couldn’t find it.

But there was even more to it—God, how could I explain? It was something…you just couldn’t describe to someone even though you could describe it to _yourself_ , but that’s because you understand it, that’s because _you_ were the one who experienced it, not whoever else.

_That doesn’t really make much sense. Or does it? Hell, I can’t tell the difference._

Nathan blinked at me for the billionth time, and his lips parted, and he furrowed his brows in thought, and then, he uttered under his breath, “I don’t get it.”

From the corner of my eye I could see how fucking lost Ewan was. His expression was darting from Nathan to mine every five seconds.

“Is…everything alright?” He asked slowly. I glanced at him, then—

“Yeah. Everything’s fine.” Nathan blurted and shook his head.

At first I thought everything was great. Now everything was just—I don’t know.

* * *

“How easy is it to track someone down?”

My fingers curled around the metal lighter I held, and I swiped my thumb up across the lid—and a flame appeared.

Ewan was the first to answer Nathan, and I didn’t stop him.  
  
He questioned with humour, “Who’re you wanting dead?”

“I want to find someone.”

I think we thought it was just an idle question, something that had been pondering in his head for the day, but it looked like it wasn’t. It didn’t sound like it. He sounded serious about this.

“Who are you wanting to find then?” I said.

“My mother.”

Ewan glanced at me and I glanced at him, and Nathan rephrased what he had said to something more realistic.

“Well…whatever’s left of her.” The boy looks at me.

“It can’t be _that_ hard.” I said. Was he looking for assurance?

Ewan snorted and mimicked, “ _It can’t be that hard?_ It’s fucking _hard_ alright, lemme tell ya—it’s fucking _nerve-wrecking_ if you want my opinion,” a beat, “but it depends. How much do you know of her?”

Nathan thinks for a moment. He shakes his head, “I…don’t know.”

Ewan shrugged, “Well we can’t exactly—“

“We can at least try.” I cut him off, and he stops, confused, but then rolls his eyes with a sarcastic grin.

***

When I go to take a shower I forget to turn the heating on, and when I do it takes an hour or more for the water to warm up, and I’m left standing in my underwear whilst I wash my clothes—and Nathan’s. He’s wrapped in a blanket, stood beside me, watching the washing machine swirl.

“What was your mother called?” I asked him, to break the silence, even though it wasn’t an awkward silence.

“I don’t remember. She died when I was really young.”

“My mom committed suicide,” I said. His fingers brush across my forearm. I continued, “Her name was Cassandra.”

“Why’d she do it?”

I sighed through my nose, “I think my dad abused her a lot. I can’t really remember what happened either.” I had to remind myself Nathan wasn’t there. I was speaking like he had lived through it _with_ me.

“Did she love you?”

The washing machine stops, the door clicks, a short beep is heard, and everything is silent. I looked down at Nathan, and said, “Did _she_ love _you_?”

He shrugged, “I remember getting hit on the head by someone. It wasn’t her, though.”

“That probably happened to me too.” I responded as I pulled out the damp washing. He knelt down beside me, hugged his knees.

“It did?” He asked. The clothes felt cold against my skin.

“I’m not sure,” I stood up and set the bundle on the counter, and set up the clothing rail, “Something like that probably happened, though.”

I couldn’t remember anything either. I remembered my mother, her name, a little of my father, and nothing else.

“Did you have any siblings?”

_Nothing else?_

I thought. I thought and thought.

Then I said, “No. I don’t think so.”

 


	41. Chapter 41

_Sam_

_~_

When I feel the warm water flowing through the shower head I stop and think before I put myself under it. I stand in the bathroom, the yellow light glowing above. The door is slightly ajar. I open it and see Nathan on the bed. He looks up when he sees me.

I think about us kissing. I try not to when I ask him, “Do you want to shower with me?”

It could have meant a lot of things, but I didn’t think about that when I said it. I meant it as in…just us. Nothing else. Standing. I didn’t want to kiss him. I didn’t want him to kiss me. At least not yet.

Nathan blinks, touches the back of his neck for a moment, looks away, then looks back, “I’m…I’m okay.”

I nod.

 

* * *

 

It felt weird.

It _all_ felt weird.

I wanted to kiss him.

I get out of the shower and dry my hair and pull on some clothes, even though my skin still felt damp. I wanted to forget everything that had happened in the last fifteen minutes. I would curl up on one side of the bed, far, and sleep it all away. I hoped.

But it wasn’t going to end up like that. It always went in the opposite direction. Always. I had that predicted. It was going to happen. Something like it.

It would. God. No. _No_. _No?_

I didn’t know what time it was when I sat up in the bed, tired, but not overly tired to make me want to try and sleep. My eyes were sore. They hurt. They burned. My throat was dry. I couldn’t swallow. I felt cold and warm at the same time. The tips of my fingers felt numb.

It’s not long before I remember myself asking Nathan, the words replaying in my head for a few minutes. I felt Hell all around me. I hope to rid it when I turn my head to hear familiar breathing, and then to my surprise his head turns, and he rolls onto his side. It’s dark. I can only see him a little.

Nathan speaks quietly, “Bad dream?”

I shake my head, but he can’t see me fully, so I respond, “No.”

He doesn’t say anything else.

“Why aren’t you sleeping?” I ask him.

“I just can’t.”

“Yeah. Same.”

The silence. Oh, the silence. _That fucking silence._

I break it.

I feel my fingers grasp around his wrists within seconds, and my hips are straddling into his, and my lips are wet with someone else’s. I can feel his effort; it’s not much, like mine—it’s sloppy, like it was before—but it’s different, something we can’t work with, but we try to. It feels like youth. It’s all over the place. It’s messy.

Fuck. Just, fuck. Okay?

We’re kissing, hard.

A lot.

It’s happening.

After what feels like years, more than years, more than that and more than this, it feels so real.

It’s raw, skin-deep, fast-paced.

I feel his fingers claw at the back of my neck, and I don’t know whether to stop or to ask him if he wants me to go on, but the thought leaves my head too quickly when I hear his voice slip through between our lips for both of us to hear.

It’s barely a breath, a sound, a noise, it’s soft, _so soft_.

The t-shirt he’s wearing is mine, and it suits him, when it’s pushed up to his collar bone, when his skin is there exposed and cold, and our coldness—our warmth inside can cure it—maybe— _maybe_ —

“ _Sam_ ,”

I couldn’t tell if it was a warning or a plea, a beg, a want, and I didn’t care because it all sounded the same to me—everything was just _merged_ —time felt like it was going fucking _backwards_ the moment I felt his stomach dip when I touched him, and he said my name again, again, _again_.

 _Again_.

I think it was resistance.

Maybe it was pressure.

_A lot of pressure._

Maybe it was the fact that it had only been a day and a bit, and he still hadn’t told me what happened.

_What happened?_

“ _Stop_.”

It’s the first time I heard force in his voice, and I felt young.

I felt like we switched places for a few seconds, and I felt empty.

His nails dig into my hand, the one that’s down the front of his underwear, and he turns his head when I try to kiss him again, and I wonder if he’ll forgive me, if he’ll forget this had ever happened.

“I said _stop_.” He whispers. I’m frozen.

“Let go of me,” he whispers again.

I don’t.

_I can’t._

He says, “Please.”

I pull back, and I wonder where I went wrong.

Where did it go downhill? _When?_

My right hand is warm from where I had touched him, my fingers weren’t cold anymore. I wasn’t shivering. My throat didn’t feel dry anymore. I could swallow. My eyes weren’t sore. Which meant—

“Go back to sleep.” Nathan says, and he pulls down the t-shirt from his collar, down over his belly. He wipes the back of his hand across his mouth.

 


	42. Chapter 42

_Sam_

_~_

I’m standing in my minuscule kitchen counting out some spare coins I had found around my apartment, as well as the remaining notes I had. I needed to go find some work before I could run off again.

When I see Nathan stood in the doorway I feel myself shrink ever so slightly, but I don’t show it.

“Get dressed,” I say lightly, “We’ll go get something to eat. Ewan is gonna meet us in the library.”

He doesn’t say anything, and it makes me worried, but I don’t confront him, because he’s looking at me like I’ve been procrastinating for eternity.

“Sam.” His voice. Fuck, his voice.

I blanked that.

He’s walked into the kitchen now. He’s wearing the t-shirt from last night. It’s near to the middle of his thighs. It’s covering him. I want to rip it off him.

“ _Sam_ ,”

I talk about we’re going to do, because what else was there to figure out? “We’re gonna see if we can find your Mom—“

_What else?_

He’s holding my right hand, the one that was down the front of his underwear, the one he could have just fucking accepted. He didn’t. He didn’t want it.

“What.” I heard myself utter. I don’t look at him, but I know he’s looking at me. I don’t want to talk to about it. I felt too embarrassed.

“I want to tell you what happened.” He says, and I listen.

 

* * *

 

We’re sitting another diner, in the town, and it’s a little busier. It made me feel better, somehow. Feeling other people around me wasn’t something I was used to, and I didn’t think I would take it this positively.

Ewan is loading it up on maple syrup, like he’s in a trance, and I tell him to stop, “You’ll put yourself into a diabetic coma.”

“Being stuck in a coma is better than dying if you think about it,” he blanks me completely, and I roll my eyes, “Like, imagine if you wanted to kill yourself, but not forever, then you could wake up.”

“But you don’t know when.” Nathan says, and Ewan smirks.

I ignore the conversation and reach over to stop Ewan with the syrup, “Quit it,” I’m about to pull his plate away before he drizzles the liquid over the back of my hand.

He grins, “Beat it mate.”

I let out a sigh, wanting to laugh at how stupid he was being, how light everything felt, how happy everything was, but I couldn’t, really. I licked the syrup off the back of my hand, “That was a dick move.”

He puts the syrup bottle down and stabs the pancake on his plate, “You liked it though.”

“Keep telling yourself that.”

“I will.”

When I look up to meet his gaze he’s smiling at me, like he’s trying not to laugh, and I feel the same. I feel giddy.

 

* * *

 

We’re in a library when Nathan comes up to me like an eight year old, shoving a worn-looking book in front of me. I was searching for trails via the internet, and I was sure he accidentally pressed a few keys, making me lose the page I was on.

“Uh, hi?” I say to him, and he opens the book for me.

“I remember someone telling me about this guy here,” his index finger rests to the side of a picture of a fifteenth-century painting of a man.

I look at the picture for a moment and scan the page before saying, “He looks like Shakespeare,” and I get a scolding from him.

“It’s Sir Francis Drake!” He corrects me, and pulls the book away when I turn back to the computer.

“Who’s that?” I ask, not really listening to him. I can sense his irritation, but I don’t stop. It’s too funny.

He sets the book aside then, and slips his arms around my neck.

His lips touch my ear, and I shudder, “Want me to lecture you?”

_Little player._

I don’t let him win, “Uh-huh, sure. Teach me.”

He comes closer, “He traveled the world. He was a sea captain.”

“So…he was a pirate.”

“An _admiral_.”

“Same thing.”

He squeezes me, and he reminds me of a snake, “There’s a difference.”

I turn my head a little, and then we’re looking at each other. We’re close.

“…Y’know…Shakespeare portrayed Juliet as a thirteen year old in his writing,” He blinked, and leant closer.

“How old was Romeo?” I asked, and he smiles.

“Not sure. Maybe early twenties. Maybe fifteen. Thirty-something. It doesn’t say.”

“It doesn’t?” The subject is leaving my head when Nathan’s fingers somehow trail down my neck and to the collar of my sweatshirt.

He hums in response, eyes hooded, and he kisses me softly. I kiss back, and his thumbs caress my cheeks. I endure the moment. When he pulls back he still cups my cheeks, and we look at each other. We breathe.

I never noticed how his eyes warmed and cooled.

They warmed when I was close.

I could feel that.

Nathan smiles at me.

But it’s a sad smile.

There’s something wrong.

What is it?

“Are you okay?” I whisper, even though there isn’t anyone near us. There’s no one. It’s just us. It feels apocalyptic.

He purses his lips, then, “Wanna know the scariest thing that happened?”

I blink. “Sure.”

He leans to kiss me again, but he stops midway, our lips parted.

“When someone threatens you with a gun when they’re raping you.”

I turn my head away when he whispers.

I can’t look at him now.

I feel just as bad having him so close.

I can feel it sink in to my head. My chest is tight with the thought of it—not what he’s said, but that— _that_ —triggered everything else I wanted to forget about.

“Haha, _fuck_.” I curse, out of everything.

Nathan’s fingers slip away from my cheeks, “What?”

“I-I’m not sure.”

“Tell me.”

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

_I feel like crying._

I swallow. “I don’t know.”

I’m just as bad.

_I’m just as bad._

_I’m just as—_

“You’re not like him.”

I see these eyes staring at me like they’re trying to tell me everything I’ve always wanted to know. They’re his.

“Is that what you’re thinking?” He says in a breath, his voice urgent—but not in arousal—this is need. This is scarier. It’s forceful. It’s almost  _powerful_ —

“Sam, answer me.”

“Yeah. It is.”

I must have been staring into space when he noticed how transfixed I was in my head.

“Am I like him?” I ask. It was a stupid question.

He shakes his head, “No, you’re not. You’re far from it.”

“Then why does it feel wrong?”

“Because I’m younger than you.”

Maybe.

Maybe.

_Maybe._

He’s right.

“Yeah.” I whisper back. I feel his thumbs at my cheeks again, and I embrace it. I lean into it. It’s comforting. It feels like home.

His blood feels like my own.


	43. Chapter 43

_Sam_

_~_

It feels like I’ve known Nathan my entire life, but I know that isn’t true.

When I wasn’t doing anything else, when I was ready to go to sleep, I briefly imagined what things would be like if we hadn’t met. I mean, I know for a fact he would still be living in what probably felt very much like Hell. I know for a fact he’d be pretty suicidal—

“Wait,” I’m standing and I’ve taken ahold of the boy’s forearms. They’re thin and breakable.

He blinks, “What’s wrong?” And I ignore him as I look at his wrists and his milky skin that bore many marks and light bruises but no scars. No white jagged lines.

“Can I see your thighs?”

His face turns red when I say that, and I’m sure this is the first time that he’s actually shied away from me.

But maybe that’s not the reason—

“I’ve…” he begins, hesitant, “…I’ve never cut myself before, Sam.”

I blink, “You’re lying.”

“I’m not, I promise you.”

“Then what do you do?”

I act like there was a relatable response to my question, because there _had_ to be a suggestion, a reason, something to hurt with, it had to be there. It was there for me when things turned to shit.

Nathan gently pulls his forearms away from me as he speaks quietly, and I let him go, “I hope.”

“Hope?” I mimic automatically. _God, Sam._

“Yeah.” He says, “don’t…you ever hope?”

Not really.

It’s hard.

I find it difficult.

Because I’ve expected too much.

_And that—_

“Uh, no? No. Not really. I don’t. I don’t think so. No.”

He’s smiling now. He’s laughing at me.

_—ruins it._

 

* * *

 

Upon going to bed Nathan is sat with the small journal he carried around with him. There’s several photos slipping from the pages, and he bundles them.

“Wanna see?” He suggests to me, and I nod, even though I’ve already seen the first few pages. I don’t tell him that. I don’t want to. I don’t think I should.

He picks up one of the polaroids and gives it to me. I hold it by the white frame, and peer at it in the low light of the room.

“It’s the cat.” I say. It’s the white cat. The cat from the very beginning. Nathan doesn’t respond, he’s looking at the other photos. Then he’s pushing them aside, over to me, as though wanting me to look through them. Then he’s flicking through the yellowed pages of the little book.

“Are you okay?” I ask him.

“Yeah.”

He isn’t.

He sighs when I pick up the other photos, and he watches me and my fingers pinch them by their borders.

I found the deer.

“I like this one.” I say, and he hums.

“I want one of you.”

“How about both of us?”

He thinks, blinks, thinks again, then nods. I made him smile a little.

The room is dark when we take the photo, and I was sure I blinked, and Nathan laughed because I kept ranting how bad I was going to look once the photo developed.

“I like it.” He whispers to me when he picks up the picture, it’s colour showing, light leaking in places around its corners. It’s a little blurry, due to the focus, but it looks real. My lips are parted ever so slightly—I think I was in the middle of talking—and I wasn’t even looking at the camera. I let out a laugh.

“Shit.” I curse, shaking my head. It looked so funny.

“Sam?”

“Yeah?”

Nathan’s face softens a little. “Can I ask you something?”

I nod, “Yeah, sure. Anything.”

“Would you fuck me?”

My breath catches in my throat, and I cough. I let out a noise that probably resembled a nervy laugh, but it didn’t even sound like one, and it kept coming, and I couldn’t fucking stop it. His little eyes grow wide in concern at me.

“Do you _want_ me to fuck you?” I ask.

“I’m not sure,” when he cocks his head to the side it makes me remember that there’s nine years between us, “I’m considering it. I’d get off really well, because you’re hot.”

I snort, and all my attractiveness flies out the window, and I end up laughing, “You’re serious?” He couldn’t be serious. He hasn’t even seen the worst of me, yet.

He smiles, “Yeah.”

“Stop fucking with me.”

“I’m not.”

“Yes you are!”

He buries himself under the duvet then, and he hides. He doesn’t do a good job of it though. He’s a lump.

I’m laughing under my breath when I set aside the photos and his little book, along with his camera and the photo of us. Everything feels warm again when I climb across, and I lie there beside him, and we endure the minute of silence, just us.

He shuffles a little under the duvet, and I smile.

I say, softly, “Nathan.”

_“Yup?”_

“Come out.”

_“Why?”_

“I want to kiss you.”

It makes me think of what he’s gone through, and I feel bad for asking him.

“You want to kiss me?” He’s popped his head out from under the cover now, one of his cheeks squished against the mattress, and his eyes are doe-like when he gazes at me.

“Yeah.” I respond. I don’t feel confident knowing inside I feel selfish somewhere. I hope he can’t see that.

He sits up slowly, the duvet falling round his slim shoulders, “You don’t sound so sure.”

I breathe deep, and blink a couple of times, glancing downwards, and I admit, because I couldn’t lie to him, and anyway—what could I even lie about? “I’m confused.”

He crawls over to me, and sits with his hands slipped between his lean thighs. “Well…I’m not confused. Why should you be?” It sounds like a suggestion. He’s trying to assure me.

“Because you’re young.” I answer, “You don’t have to think. I’m older than you.

He rolls his eyes, bites his bottom lip, “Oh _sure_.”

I think he expects me to say something back to him, as a reply, but I don’t. I don’t know what to say. I can’t help but rub the back of my neck, because I feel so fucking stupid and unsure of what to do.

“Sam.”

I look at him. He’s pretty. He’s _too_ pretty.

“Do you like me?”

 

 

Yeah.

 

I do.

 

 

_A lot._

 

You have no idea. You have no fucking idea. How much.

 

I’ve liked you from the very beginning.

 

But I don’t think I have enough to give.

 

_Because I’m so fucking worn out._

 

In other words, I’m scared.

 

And I’m sorry if you want your all.

 

I’d give it to you.

If I could.

 

_For you._

 

Because you deserve the world at your feet, more than anyone else.

Because you’ve been through the most. You’ve had your childhood ripped.

You deserve everything.

 

And I want to help. And I _want_ to help you.

 

_But maybe._

 

I’m not good enough, because I know.

I’m so fucking stupid it’s unreal.

 

But.

 

It wouldn’t hurt me more, if I tried. It wouldn’t kill me off.

 

It wouldn’t.

It _shouldn’t._

 

 

_It won’t._

 

 

So…I’d try.

 

 

 

“Sam?”

“Y-Yeah I’m listening.”

“Don’t lie.”

“I’m sorry.”

I’m looking away from him because I can’t look at him while I’m thinking over his question so much, and I can feel it hurt me somewhere, and I don’t know how to answer it with proving to him that I _mean_ it, and that I want it _all_ , but at the same time…if I _do_ confront, it’ll just… _fall_. Fuck, I don’t know. It fucking makes me want to tear up for no reason—I don’t know what’s going on. _God_. Just, fuck. _Fuck_.

“You,” He begins, like a mother— _like a twelve-year old mother assuring her nineteen-year old misfit of a son_ —I feel his fingers along my cheeks, and he’s making me look at him, “have helped me so much. Do you know that?”

I blink. He’s whispering, and I can hear in the breath of his voice that he’s feeling as much as I am.

“If you had never agreed to take me with you, I wouldn’t be here. _Right now_. Because…none of this…” he leans forward. I let him. Because I want it so badly.

I need it.

He kisses me chastely, and when he pulls away, he finishes, “…Would have never happened.”

I swallow. I can still feel his ghost on my lips.

“Yeah. You’re right.” I say, and his fingers fall from my cheeks.

“But,” he sends me a sheepish smile, “I know for a fact you won’t fuck me, even if I asked you to.”

_Want me to prove that?_

“I’d…probably break you.” I’m not meant to say it, but I can’t help it. I don’t know whether I’m joking. He smiles anyway.

“Yeah. You probably would.” He responds lightly.

He lies down beside me, “If you did, you’d put me back together, right?”

“I’d try to.”

His lips brush my shoulder.


	44. Chapter 44

_Sam_

_~_

_“I love you.”_

It’s all so confusing when I see the images whizz past the backs of my eyes, and I very quickly feel how puzzled my body is when everything begins to communicate and give responses I’m unaware of—and it’s a build up of painful intensity—it’s achingly erotic in some way, and I think I know what’s happening because I can see his head lowered between my thighs.

I’m torn between two sides. I can feel my stomach knot. It’s all so warm.

It’s like my insides are being mixed with hot melted wax, and the process is so fucking excruciating, how everything suddenly decides to harden when his grip tightens, and when I feel the silk—the back of his throat—just, _there_ , barely touching—and then he lets me go for a second, and the wax melts and burns into me once more.

It repeats. Again. And again. Again, to the point where I’m praying to God it will stop and be written off as a bad memory, one that has been split from what is the closest to being relentless pleasure and everything else that’s buried in the most shameless and darkest corners of my mind.

It all felt so real. Even when I knew, when it feels like I’m watching him turn himself into something he’d promised he’d never be again, I didn’t want it to stop. I felt embarrassed with myself, a little humiliated, I should hate myself for it, but the loathing doesn’t seem to exist right now.

His fingers tighten. It’s warmer this time, the wax is at its meting point again, and it’s spilling fast, too fast, and it burns, it’s leaving so many scars I can’t define, and every part of my body is clenching and teetering on the edge into a release of cold, _fresh reality and—_

“F- _Fuck_ ,”

It only takes so much for me to be pulled out of the dream.

The moment I opened my eyes it all came to a brutal stop, and I was lying in my own sweat. I’m too turned on to be disgusted, and I’m trying to shut my eyes again, I’m trying to make it all come back, so I could end it on a good note, and I could put myself back into a well-deserved sleep—but it doesn’t happen.

It hurts so much.

And it’s real.

_This is the reality of it._

“Sam?”

In the midst of the fading pictures of Nathan, one side of my brain is trying to figure out how I came to be stuck in the cycle of the dream, and I’m blinking, and I’m seeing the ceiling like I always do. It’s always there when I wake. That’s good. I’m not making this up. I’m awake. I wish I wasn’t though.

“Sam,” I’m seeing his face in my eyes, and I’m still blinking, to get rid of the dreary sleep, “You’re sweating.”

_Oh, fuck, pull it together already._

I roll my eyes shut, my breathing is heavy and my heart is still pounding inside my ribs and I’m pretty sure Nathan can practically hear it hammering at my bones. It feels like it’s going to break me from the inside out.

I bite my bottom lip, hard, because I can’t stop it. It’s still happening. The fucking wax is hardening again. Nathan is looking at me confusedly, and I want to shout at him or something, tell him what to do, but _fuck_ —I can’t do that. I think I’m still dreaming. Jesus _Christ_ , what the actual _fuck_ is going on?

I’m hard. That’s for sure. That’s for fucking definite actually, and Nathan is so fucking close to me I think I’m about to pass out.

I try to swallow, and my throat is parched, and I’m not sure he’ll be able to hear me, but I speak anyway, and I hope I’ll say something appropriate, because I didn’t want to scare him into anything, “I need to jerk off.”

 _Wow_.

Great.

Just _great_.

Nathan furrowed his brows for barely a second, as if not hearing me correctly, but then his eyes widen, and in the faint light I can see his cheeks become pink. He sucks his bottom lip. His eyes shyly flick down to my crotch. “…Do you want me to help?”

“No, no,” _I don’t even know what I’m saying_ , “I’m fine, I’m okay—I-I’m not, I’m just—I’m really hot,” _Screw everything_ , “God, I—“ I breathe deep. What I’m feeling is literally indescribable. It’s like the devil is playing around with my hormones. I’m experiencing the most harrowing sexual torment. I could become fucking history right now—

“Sam,”

It isn’t.

That’s a lie. Nothing’s okay. Nothing ever _will_ be okay. Why do people even say that?

“Close your eyes.”

I close them, just because.

_For the sake of one orgasm, then yeah, sure, if that’s the case._

_I must be pretty desperate._

“That’s it.”

And then, just like that, I’m at peace with myself.

There’s no hot wax.

There’s no pain.

There’s no confusion.

_It’s not a dream._

_It’s real._

_It’s all real._

But it’s nice.

It feels good.

_It feels better._

I open my eyes to find Nathan staring right back at me.

There’s a familiar hand resting just below my belly. It’s his. His fingertips are slowly sliding underneath the thin fabric of my underwear, I want to touch him, make it equal, so I don’t beat myself up afterwards, but I’m tired, despite the budding energy inside me. I want to pull him even closer, hold his face, kiss him and whisper and forget for a few minutes, soak him into me, and cherish it.

But he’s already kissing me, and it’s different to what we’ve done before.

For a moment I forget I’m pushing twenty, and I feel myself slip into another age. I feel like I’m fifteen again when I shut my eyes. It’s been so long. It’s been years since this last happened.

I don’t know whether I should find it attractive; that our tongues are down each other’s throats, that he’s pressed against me, that his skeletal-like fingers are down the front of my underwear getting sticky, that we’re kissing, the looming age gap between us, his youth and my experience. I don’t think about it. I try not to, because I want to enjoy it.

Because I know it will only last so long. Like how that confusing youth we love and hate at the same time will only last for a while.

Then it leaves you.

 

* * *

 

When I wake I have an immediate urge to go to the bathroom, and I stumble out of the bed. My knees hit the cold laminate floor when I try to get up, and it takes me a minute or two to realise that, when I’m standing at the toilet, I’m completely naked. I almost fall back to sleep when I’m still stood.

I wearily wander back into the bedroom, whilst heavily leaning against the open doorframe, I see that Nathan is awake—I think I woke him when I rolled out of the bed.

“Hi.” He says gently.

I have to blink a few times, “Hi.”

“You feel okay?” He asks me.

I ignore his question, “Did we have sex?”

“No.”

“Okay.”

“I have a headache.” I blurt. It’s splitting me. I don’t wait for him to respond, but he calls out to me when I leave the room.

“Drink water!”

I find my way into my three-metre-length kitchen, I start to scrounge for painkillers. I find two tablets, and I’m tempted to take three, but it’d probably knock me out. I’d have to get my stomach pumped or something. I didn’t want to die. Not just yet.

I lean against the counter side as I gulp down the pills dry.

“You need to eat something.”

Nathan is standing in the doorway, wearing a tee that had a print of the LSD smiley.

I breathe out, “Hm. Yeah.”

“You’re not listening to me.”

“I’m fucking tired. Give me a break.”

I snapped at him. I shouldn’t have. He didn’t do anything wrong. He’s trying to help.

“Sorry,” I start, “It’s been a long time since this has happened to me.”

He nods.

“And…it doesn’t feel familiar.” I add, and he nods again.

“The last time it happened there was a girl—“ He cuts me off.

“It’s fine. I get it.”

The warmth decides to come back.

But it’s not the same kind of warmth.

_It’s a warmth that kills._

We stare at each other for a moment, his eyes sharp and narrowing, and I’m the first to blink away and give a forceful sigh.

“Great.” I say, “Glad we understand.” I’m getting angry all of a sudden. There’s underlying scowls in my voice. I can’t stop it. _Why can’t I stop it?_

I’m about to turn away when he speaks again, “I just don’t get why you can’t relax for a second.”

I frown at him, “Does that bother you?”

He laughs humourlessly, “Did I hit a nerve?”

I bite it back, “You will in a minute.”

“Will you answer my question?”

“What makes you think I want to?”

He blinks, his eyes change again, and he furrows his brows, “You think that’s okay? To not tell me what’s wrong?”

I don’t know how to respond without raising my voice at him, because it seems fucking _impossible_ to be civil right now, I’m feeling _so much_ , “ _Shut up_. Okay? Just— _leave me alone_ , okay?”

“Sam if it were anyone else I wouldn’t be this persistent,” He says. “You can tell me if—“

_Oh, God._

_This isn’t good._

“For _fuck’s_ sake Nathan there’s nothing _wrong_!” I think I’m too tired to be angry, and now that I think about it, “Just— _fuck off_. Okay?”

He smiles then, but it’s not a nice smile.

It’s like he’s found something new about me—and he doesn’t like it all.

He bites his lip, shakes his head, and my gut plummets when I see his eyes.

That wasn’t meant to happen.

They’re watering.

_Please don’t._

_Don’t cry._

His voice cracks a little, and he tries to laugh, “Fuck you.”

_Don’t._


	45. Chapter 45

_Sam_

_~_

_Fuck._

Just, _fuck_.

Fuck _everything_.

Nathan is the last person on Earth I want to argue with, and I’ve done it, knocked that off my ‘ _DON’T_ ’ list and I regret it with my all, even though it might have been written off as something stupid, I can see it’s hurt him, and it’s made me feel like shit.

If it were anyone else they would have left my apartment for a few hours, but Nathan didn’t do that. He couldn’t. Instead he locked himself in the bathroom for a good hour and a half.

He’s still in there.

During that time I had pulled on a pair of track suit bottoms after realising we quarrelled with me stark naked in front of him, and I told myself how stupid I was. I still have a headache. I don’t think the pills worked.

“Am I meant to apologise?” I’m slumped at the shut bathroom door, my forehead pressed against it. I hope it opens soon. Very soon.

“ _God gave you freewill_.” He says, giving an example. “ _Are you asking yourself? Or me_?”

“Both.”

“ _Then yeah. You’re meant to apologise_.”

I close my eyes, “How?”

“ _I don’t know_.” He’s hinting harsh sarcasm, “ _Ask yourself_.”

I swallow, and think, hard.

_For a twelve year old he was pretty good at directing a conversation._

“I want to say it to your face.” I say.

“ _No. Say it now_.”

“I can’t.”

“ _Why not_?”

I just can’t.

I swallow. I know I’m not going to win this one. “Just open the door, Nathan.”

“ _No_.”

“Please?”

“ _I said no_.”

“Fuck.”

“ _Yeah_.”

I sigh through my nose, let the air leave until it hurts, my lungs shrink; they want to be full again for another second. I breathe in, and want to scream. But I don’t. The effort is too much. I can feel it leave when I close my eyes.

I think about everything.

Well, I try to. I _try_ to, without cracking up. Without the nervous laughter. Without the rarely seen tears. Without the everything I never wanted, but had.

I swallow, eyes still closed, head pressed against the door, “You’re a little shit,” I blink, “but you’re lucky.”

I think.

I hear him move behind the door, “ _I haven’t seen you light a cigarette in a while_.”

I don’t bother conversing back, because it’s there, it’s happened, it’s when we laughed at one point, the time was light then.

I say, “You’re a mistake.”

“ _You’re an idiot_.”

“You’re a disappointment.”

“ _You’re insistent_.”

“Your hardship—“ he opens the door when I’m about to finish, but I look up from where I’m sat to see him standing. His legs are thin. His face is hollower. His hair ruffled.

He tries to smile, and a pained sort of laugh slips from his lips, “You’re an asshole.”

“Yeah. I am.”

He laughs then, but his voice shudders when he breathes in, and I feel the forgiveness freeze for a moment or two when I stand, ready for the embracement, but for some reason it never surfaces.

Nathan looks away from me, leans against the doorframe, like he’s about to faint, and I panic a little when I see him close his eyes, sigh, voice strained, and he screws up his expression and reaches for the glass toothbrush holder set aside at the sink and he throws it right at the mirror.

It smashes.

The shards hit him, and me. We’re both scratched, and I think I’m the only one that notices the fine lines of blood streaked across our forearms.

He doesn’t seem to be there when I touch his shoulder.

But when he turns to look at me, eyes tired and face drained, he bites the inside of his lip and smiles, sorely, but sheepishly. But it’s all fake. I know it. I can see it.

I swallow, “…Nathan?”

And he bursts into tears.

 

* * *

 

I’m brushing up the broken glass into one pile when I finally get the courage to speak, “What made you do it?”

He’s coiled himself inwards like a cat when I look through the bathroom doorway to the bed. We both have plasters littering our forearms. His cuts are worse.

When I don’t get a response I don’t push for one, because ten minutes earlier he was hysterical—crying as if someone had died in front of him—and he completely forgot about the argument, and he clawed at my chest to be held. I didn’t really know what to do in that moment. I think I was in shock of how convinced I was, that he all of sudden seemed to laugh and look absolutely fine until he picked up that toothbrush holder and threw it at the sink mirror with full-force. He didn’t flinch either when the glass cracked and splintered at all angles.

I finished on brushing up the shards, binned them, and sat down on the bed beside Nathan.

He shuffled closer, his head in my lap now.

His eyes are pink, cheeks still wet.

I don’t hesitate to thread my fingers through his locks, to freely comb through them, hoping it would do some comfort, but he seemed unfazed by it.

“I think that was the aftermath.” He says, and I jump at the sound of his voice.

I repeat, though I don’t want to sound annoying, “Aftermath?”

He licks his lips, “Y’know how I didn’t talk for a few hours when you guys came and lifted me?”

I nod. He continued.

“Well…the crying and the screaming should’ve happened there. Not here.”

I brush my thumb across his cheekbone, and he leans into the touch ever so slightly, “Trauma takes time to settle in.”

“It takes even longer to go.”

“It stays.”

He looks at me blankly, “Maybe I’m finally growing.”

I immediately snort, and I try not to laugh at his comment, and he smiles.

“Your voice breaks first,” I say, “Then…the other stuff happens.”

“Y’think it can happen back-to-front?”

I blink twice, “Wait what?”

He blinks back, “Like, doesn’t ejaculation happen last?”

I had to think on that. I couldn’t remember my own experience because I felt it really wasn’t that important. “I’m…not too sure.”

His face softens at me. I look at his eyes.

I say something stupid, to make him smile, or something, “I like your eyes.” Anything.

When he raises his eyebrows at me in question I internally cringe. “Was that too cheesy?”

He nods. “A little,” He reaches up a delicate hand to smooth his fingers up my jaw. His thumb brushes over the corner of my mouth, and the feeling plunges to my gut like a bullet. “You have bedroom eyes.”

“Now _that’s_ cheesy.” I counter.

“I know. But I can pull it off better than you.” He grins. He sits up then, hair messy but still cute, and he bumps shoulders with me, his leg touching my own.

His grin fades. “Am I sending too many mixed signals?”

I purse my lips. _Is he really?_ “I had a dream about you last night.”

His eyes widen, and I curse to myself.

“Were you fucking me?”

I cover my face, because it’s all I can do right now.

Nathan laughs softly, comes close, pries my hands away from my face and wraps his arms around me. He bites my shoulder, but it doesn’t hurt.

“Was I _fucking you_?” I repeat his question in a sigh, and he hums against my skin.

“Hm.”

“Probably.”

“Did I say anything?”

I blink.

_I love y—_

“No. I don’t think so.”

He forces me to look at him, cups one side of my face, cocks his head and he’s about to kiss me I know it—but it doesn’t happen.

Instead he rolls his eyes, sighs, flops back onto the bed, “You’re a shit liar, Sammy.”

He knows I’m not going to tell him, but I respond, “You’re too clever for your own good, y’know that?”


	46. Chapter 46

_Sam_

_~_

“We should do something illegal.” Ewan’s eyes are the first thing I see when I turn my head, and he’s close to my face. He smells minty and musky at the same time. His eyes are sharp. I can see the scar that was left across the bridge of his nose. It’s then I wonder if he really was the age he said he was.

“That’s a bad idea.” I say, turning my head with a sigh. I look back up to the sky, feel the grass prickle the backs of my ears and neck.

“It’ll be your loss if we get caught anyway,” Nathan adds, to Ewan, he spreads an arm across my middle, “I’ll get picked up by someone. Again.”

Ewan screws up his face, rolls onto his back. “Touché, kid.”

Lying in the grass under the tree we all bonded around wasn’t apart of the plan of heading to the library to try and find information on Nathan’s mother, if there was computer there to use, that was. Nathan didn’t seem to be in a rush, though. So that made it okay.

“Let’s play a game,” Nathan says, and he presses down on my abdomen as he sits up, and I wince, but it doesn’t hurt. It felt immature, and I liked it, as bad as it sounded. _Christ_.

“Spin the bottle?” Ewan jokes, forearm laid across his eyes.

“There’s no dares.” Nathan responds flatly, cross-legged.

“It was _joke_ ,” The elder says as he sits up with a grunt. His hair is somewhat curly. It’s grown longer. “You’re _young_. You should _laugh_ more often.”

Nathan doesn’t reply, but gives Ewan a look that said something he knew. He wasn’t as innocent as he seemed.

When I sit up we’re automatically formed into a three. 

“What’s the game?” I ask Nathan, and he smiles.

“Two lies and one truth.” He says, “We have to guess which is the truth. Each of us.”

Ewan shrugs. “Sure thing kiddo.”

I agree, “Yeah.”

“Ewan,” Nathan’s eyes are bright, “You first.”

The older man raises his brows, and leans forward a little, as if to think. “‘Kay, right…” he thinks. Blinks. Looks at me. Gives a glance. And it’s attractive. “I shot my buddies before I met you lovebirds,” he starts, and I purse my lips, “I’m an Aquarius,” a beat, “and…I’m ambidextrous.”

“You’re an Aquarius.” I’m the first to speak, and they both look at me. Ewan blinks.

“Nathan?” He asks.

The boy hums. “Aquarius. You fidget a lot with your hands. You’re too nice to shoot people,” he stops then, his face pales momentarily, but Ewan doesn’t seem fazed by the reminder.

_Ah, shit._

“Yeah, well, sometimes you gotta just… _y’know_ …blow someone’s head off once in a while.”

I don’t think any of us were expecting _that_ to fall from his mouth. He sure didn’t look smug now. Saying that was _so_ not apart of his oh-so-humorous charisma involving guns and probably shoving the evidence under the floorboards. Man, I hope he didn’t do that.

“You both guessed right.” Ewan says, bluntly steering away from the dreaded topic he unintentionally and rather brashly brought up, and he pretended it wasn’t there. “Your turn, Nathan.”

I watch Nathan fidget for a second as he thinks. He clearly wasn’t thinking about making up two worthy lies and a blended truth. He was thinking about _him_. Maybe _her_. And…the _other_ her.

He looks at me.

“Make it easy.” I say, Ewan taps my arm, the boy breaks into a small smile.

“Mango is my safe-word,”

“You tell your clients this?”

I nearly knock Ewan unconscious, even though he meant it as a joke, but Nathan was laughing, and it settled me.

“Yup,” he glances in my direction, and he continues, “I’m not actually twelve,” he pauses, “and I have a brother.”

“You lied about your age?” Ewan says. “Like, I think we both know,” he looks at me, “that you don’t have any siblings.”

He smiles, gives a nod.

“I wouldn’t be surprised about the age.” I add in agreement, but it still doesn’t sound right.

“You’re both wrong.”

I laugh. “ _Mango_?”

“Oh yes.”

“You’re not serious.”

“Well…it’s not something you’d hear when you’re…y’know…”

“True.”

I feel the breeze push across the back of my exposed neck when I think for my three. I try to think, I wonder about all the lies I’ve said to people in the past—I’ll use them, if I can remember them.

“I speak Latin.” I say, first, and Ewan is already calling bullshit, and he’s wrong, because I _do_ speak Latin (pigeon-Latin) but I don’t say that. “I’m bi,” and, Nathan shakes his head, because he probably remembers I told him I was never attracted to women—well, not much—“I had the chance to go to college.” I didn’t. I’m not sure if I ever did, actually.

I couldn’t remember much anyway.

It was like I kept forgetting things I was meant to remember.

“…You said you went to an orphanage,” Nathan is the first to begin, and he speaks slowly, face curious, “there were nuns there, I remember you saying,” Ewan just looks confused, and I find it funny, “it was a catholic orphanage. You would have been taught Latin there.”

“He’s right?” Ewan nudges me, eyebrows raised into a frown, and I roll my eyes at him.

“Y’know, before I decided to fuck off I _did_ learn a few things.” I say to him, “I mean, like  _Latin_ is gonna be any use…”

“Say something in Latin then.” It sounds like a challenge. He still doesn’t believe me. “Speak for us.”

I stop for a moment, to remember the awkward classes I endured, the language only being taught in the context of religion, nothing else, I was sure. Very little came back to me, but it felt like there was more somewhere, “ _In principio creavit_ …” I think once more, because translation and remembrance didn’t mix well, “… _Deus caelum et terram.”_

“In…the beginning?” Nathan says, as if he knew it like he had been taught for years. “God…created the heavens and earth.”

I frown. ”You were taught Latin?” I ask.

He shrugs, “I don’t know. Maybe. I remember someone saying those two lines in particular to me, whoever it was read it like a story,” he stops, swallows and blinks, “though, I think every theist would say I’m going to Hell.”

Ewan chuckles, meets my eyes, “I’ll be coming with you.”

I smile, “Yeah. Me too.”

 


	47. Chapter 47

_Sam_

_~_

The paper he was scribbling on seemed to fill and fill each passing minute, when it really wasn’t, that was just an illusion I only saw, the black ink smearing when he accidentally swept his hand across the lines and words.

“Anything?” Nathan asks me once more, and I nod.

“Anything you recall.”

“Okay.”

My fingers click on the mouse resting under my palm, even though I’m not using the computer yet. Nathan’s hair falls around his eyes when he leans over to write. When he looks back up he lifts the sheet and hands it to me.

I read in my head:

_> There’s a drop off and he leaves me there with someone._

_> Mom is dead._

_> The someone is someone I know._

_> He’s older than me. He’s nice. He was._

_> There was a woman too. She read me books. She read the Latin to me. I think._

“Who…drooped you off?” I ask gently. He sucks his bottom lip.

“My dad.”

“Where’d he drop you off?”

“Some big house. I never saw him again.”

“Do you remember his last name?”

“No.”

“Your mother’s?”

“No.”

He sounds frustrated with himself, so I don’t ask anything else.

I blurt, because I can’t help myself, and I want to do everything I can for him. I hope he understands that, “What was the woman’s name?”

He blinks. “Evelyn.”

“Did it happen around here?”

He doesn’t answer, and I don’t bother, because I’m making him feel bad now, because he can’t remember shit, like me. But this is more difficult to run on from. Nothing adds up.

I try again, and I breathe in, “You said there was a big house.”

“There were people in it I didn’t know.”

I blink twice, “Like a school?”

He frowns a little, “…Yeah? Yeah.”

“An orphanage.” I say, but not to him.

There was only ever one orphanage around this city, and it lay on the outskirts. That was where I stayed. The one I ran away from. _Holy shit_.

_Why am I only adding this up now? Fuck, so much shit happened there._

“Right,” I sigh, looking at the page again. There’s nothing. “You’re gonna stick with Ewan for a bit.”

He’s awake now, “What? Why?”

I fold up the page twice, so it fits in in my back pocket. “I’ll be gone an hour or so.”

 

* * *

 

_Maybe an hour was an understatement._

I had forgotten where I left the majority of my childhood. And that ate up the first hour, and I panicked a little because I said to Nathan it was only going to be an hour, but I didn’t bother phoning them, because Ewan would ask where I was, then they’d follow me. I couldn’t have that. I didn’t want that. Not yet. Not right now. There was time. We had lots of time to work together. Just now wasn’t the right time to do that.

Even though I was doing it in Nathan’s favour, I was also going for my own reasons.

The parking lot was smaller than how I remembered it in my head, but then again everything I tended to remember was far different from how it really was in reality. There was either things missing, or things added on to it.

There were few cars in the lot; two or three, parked to one side. I parked myself away from them before going up to the front of the faded red-brick building. The rest of the spaces seemed disappointed. The white lines were wearing out. They needed to be repainted. Like that was ever going to happen, though.

_Maybe I should knock._

No, don’t do that.

_Ring the bell, that’s even worse._

The anxiety was coming back to me the moment I blinked and all of a sudden the realisation hit me: _What the fuck was I doing here?_

I ran off.

I left this place.

I never wanted to see it again.

Why am I back?

_You never really went far, though._

_You live on the other side of town._

_That’s really far away, isn’t it._

_It isn’t, stupid._

And why didn’t they look for me?

I think I had knocked thrice on the heavy door, or I think I pushed the bell, I don’t know, or maybe the place was actually alive and it spoke to whoever dwelled inside it, and they knew I had came back— _they’ll ask why_ —for what?

A dark-skinned woman opens the door, eyes tired, like my own, her cheeks somewhat hollow, but she still had her looks. She was dressed as one of the nuns.

And it didn’t take me long to realise who she was.

It didn’t take her long to notice it was me, either.

A blink or two and she knew. Under that thinned face and height of mine the little antichrist-misfit was still there lurking. I wished it to go somewhere else.

“Samuel.” She says, and I expected her voice to come out as a question, like they do in the movies, maybe pull me close, say it was their fault that they didn’t help me, that they never answered the questions I wanted answered—and they were the simple ones, one of the them being the most questioned by everyone, and everyone never got anywhere, and it wasn’t fair— _why am I here Sister?_ It always made me want to cry.

“Catherine,” I automatically respond, because the brief memories in the back of my head are blooming in colour that was once familiar. I correct myself, “I-I mean Sister.”

But she ignores my manner, doesn’t open the door fully, like I’m poisonous, doesn’t want me anywhere near her, “You’re past your age here.” She says, “I suggest you leave.” She tries to be strong in front of me.

At one point I was smaller than her, still a child, I can recall it, our differences, and now they’ve been switched just like that and I can’t figure out how and why it happened so quickly.

Her eyes say everything she’s trying to hide from me.

“You’ve no reason to be here, Samuel.”

“I need your help.”

She’s closing the door, and her voice is shuddering. “You’re too late for that.”

I step forward and press my hand against the door, and I push, because she’s too fast for me to keep up. She’s not letting me explain anything, “ _Please_ , just listen.”

“I’ve been told not—“

“It’ll only take a moment,” I feel myself rush, because time is running out here, right now, the pressure is almost painful to hold, “It’s important,” _I can feel it in the backs of my eyes_ , “I need to explain it—“ _it’s like I’m dying—_

“ _Leave_.”

I want to break down the door, because they _have_ to listen.

 _All_ of them have to listen to what I have to say to them. I need to point out all the wrongs they’ve done to me, the reason why I got up after lights out and smashed the church’s windows—it’s all because of _them_ that I left—the security had gone somewhere, and I had left to go find it, and somewhere along the lines I fucked it up even more.

“ _Leave_ ,” She says again, louder, and her eyes are watering now, and I don’t know why I feel guilt pool into me, because I wasn’t lying to myself— _she_ was in the wrong, “You don’t belong here anymore.”

And she shuts the door.


	48. Chapter 48

_Sam_

_~_

The fight leaves my body when I’m left stood in the silence. Trees surrounded sides of the parking lot. Their fallen leaves tumble somewhere across the concrete. A few make their way across my feet.

_She hasn’t left yet._

_She’s standing behind the door._

“You’ve changed a lot.” I say aloud, I make sure she can hear me, because she has to know, she has to listen, because who else will? “I’m not leaving. Not yet.”

I hear her feet shuffle, they step, and they step and step and step and I realise she’s left the door. She’s walked away.

I don’t feel disappointment.

I feel more than that.

I know the trust isn’t there anymore.

Because it never really was there.

Things were always clouded in suspicion and question for those several years, and I tried to hide it all to prevent the riots I frequently had.

_Oh, just, fuck everything._

I bite the inside of my lip, ball my fists, wring my wrists because the silence is unbearable now, right now it’s agony because it’s like _I’m_ the one with all the problems when the people who _really_ had them pushed them into me. They _gave_ them to me.

I know shouting won’t do any good. Neither kicking the door down. That’ll just get me lifted by the police.

_Think of Ewan._

I notice the unusual yet familiar weight grab my attention in the right pocket of my denim jacket.

_No, way._

_Not doing that._

_Not going to bullet the door down._

_Even though I really want to._

I sit on the steps, away from the door, my back is to it.

I rub my arms. Feel the cold. Feel the air. I feel it all closing in.

_And I accept it._

 

* * *

 

It’s been two hours at least. Maybe more. I don’t know. I know I have been sitting here for quite a long time, because it had gotten dark. Day was verging on dusk. I had gotten a text from Ewan within that time, asking if I was alright. I didn’t reply to it. _I wasn’t alright_. I thought about Nathan.

I had came here for him, really. Not me. Not me. Definitely not me.

_Now I’ve made it my problem._

I rub my eyes, because they’re both squeezing water out when they shouldn’t be. They don’t have to be doing that, because they’re too old to be doing that. They’re pushing twenty. That’s not a brat anymore.

I hear feet.

They’re not Sister Catherine’s, and the hope I had in her fled from me when I picked up on how heavy the steps were. I felt bluntly intimidated by the sound.

When the door opens with a soft lock I’m greeted by yellow light. It spills down across the steps, outlines my sitting figure—and someone else’s.

When I turn I’m seeing an older man who’s grey in the temples. He’s dark, laugh-lines etched into the corners of his eyes. He’s smiling, softly.

“You were insistent on leaving,” he begins, and it all comes back to me as I stand up from where I was sitting, “and it looks like you’re just as insistent on coming back.” He smiles.

 

* * *

 

There were no motherly figures in the place of another parent-less one hundred boys, the Sisters were a lot different. Whatever a mistress was, that was them. But they weren’t as strict like they were in those books about boarding school, the girls in them falling in love with boys they’ve never met and have never seen, the nuns—they weren’t as proper. We tended to catch one or two of them having a smoke in one of the main hall’s open windows along to where we headed for the bathroom. They tried, and that was enough. That was appreciated.

There was a male figure, though. And that was Father Duffy.

The majority of us felt closer to him because, number one, he was just…likeable. He had that sense others didn’t have. Him belonging here was what made the place this place—and if you exclude your own dilemmas—this would have been a genuine home.

_If you were good._

_If you listened._

_If you don’t run off like I did._

“She looked like she was about to cry when she opened the door.” I say weakly. The place feels ghostly inside, like I hadn’t been here before, but another part of me had.

“Hm,” Father Duffy grunts as he sits down opposite me. He sips at the mug of tea he had poured; he had offered me some but I declined, he made a joke about poisoning it, and I couldn’t find it funny, even though I wanted to, it didn’t feel right. It had been years.

“Sister Catherine has been a little lost without you, in all honesty.” He continues, sits back in his chair. “I remember you and her quarrelling every second of the day. You here, always in my office. You here, staying the weekend instead of going with the others.”

_I’m feeling unbelievably awkward right now._

_This wasn’t really meant to happen._

“Anyway, that’s all been done. Check.” He leans forward. He puts away all so easily. “Why are you here?”

_Aha. For a number of reasons. Ones I haven’t exactly listed, so, bear with me._

I blink a few times and glance down at my thighs, my pale hands, and open my mouth to speak, but nothing happens. Father Duffy waits.

I feel apprehensive when I finally get the urge to respond, “I have a friend that’s…trying to…get…y’know,” I make a gesture with my hand, “information and stuff.”

“Do I scare you? Samuel?”

“Well you never used to until now.”

“And why’s that?”

“Puberty.”

He laughs at that, but I don’t. Because it’s the painful truth. He can see why I don’t laugh.

“Go on,” he says.

“He doesn’t remember anything and he’s been through a lot lately. I want to help him.”

“So why come here?”

“I’m wondering if he…ever came here.”

“Saint Francis’?” He adds.

_Saint Francis Boys’ Home._

“Well…yeah. I guess.” I reply.

“What’s his name?”

“Nathan.”

He chuckles, “Another one?”

I frown, “Excuse me?”

He waves a hand, “Never mind. What’s his last name?”

“He…doesn’t remember.”

Father Duffy raises his brows, “He doesn’t _remember_?”

I nod, hesitantly, and there isn’t much else to say, because he just has to look at me to know what I’ve done and what I’ve been through.

“ _Alright_ ,” he stands up, shuffles around the corner of the desk to one of the metal file cabinets. It takes him a few minutes to find what he’s looking for, and I don’t say anything.

“So…how long have you known _this_ Nathan?” He makes small talk. He speaks somewhat humorously, as if to hint on something I should know. But I don’t. I don’t get any of it.

I answer bluntly, “Not long.”

He hums and nods as he takes out a large file, it’s blue-bound corners tinted and scuffed. “I see.”

He sits back down again, flips open the file and skims through the many pages of thumbnail pictures of the past children. He stops flicking, and turns the file around. He pushes it to me. Before I start to look he speaks.

“Samuel,” he says, and I swallow. I don’t look at him. He continues anyway, “Are you feeling alright?”

When I meet his gaze he’s smiling, but there’s concern written there too.

I nod, “Yeah. I’m fine.”

“In the last few years this is the only Nathan we’ve ever had, believe it or not,” he says, almost gently as I look at the marked black and white photos of different boys.

“Is that him?” Father Duffy adds softly, points the photo before I even find it.

_It is._

_Holy shit._

I breathe out, “Yeah. It is.”

Nathan looks a lot younger in the photo.

He’s got longer hair and chubbier cheeks, all-round soft and innocent.

He must be at least six or seven years old in this picture.

At least.

There’s hand-written information beside the photo, including his name.

Father Duffy’s laugh startles me.

“Are you serious right now?” He chuckles, waits for me to say something, but I don’t. He frowns, “You’re playing dumb with me, right?” 

I blink, “I…don’t know what you’re talking about.”

His face drops. “You’re not joking, are you.”

 _What even?_ I shake my head.

He sighs, rubs his face, momentarily pinches the bridge of his nose and closes his eyes. When he opens them he stares at me.

“Do you remember what you told your father when he left you here?” His voice is low.

“No. I don’t.”

“If I remember your exact words correctly, you told him to _go die_.” He weaves his fingers together, “Do you remember who was stood beside you?”

_I’m not liking this._ _It’s off-track._

_I should be asking the questions._

“No. I don’t.” I answer.

His index finger rests at Nathan’s picture, “Your little brother.”

 


	49. Chapter 49

_Sam_

_~_

_Your little brother._

— _and I have a brother.”_

_Your little brother._

_“Do you have any siblings?”_

_Your little brother._

_“No. I don’t think so.”_

_Your little brother._

_His blood feels like my own._

_Your little brother._

I’m staring at Nathan’s photo and I’m staring at his name.

_Your little brother._

“That’s Nathan Morgan, Sam.” I forget Father Duffy is sitting directly opposite me.

_Your little brother._

Nathan Morgan.

_Your little brother._

Nathan _Morgan_.

“Just— _stop_ ,” I don’t know how to feel, “fuck, that’s—that’s not right,” I’m standing now, “I need a smoke. I-I need to leave.”

When I open his office door Sister Catherine is stood.

We both blink at the same time, and her eyes widen at me.

_Oh, God._

She’s about to say something—maybe an apology, a compromise—I should stay—but I push past her because she’s the last thing I need to make amends with. That’s all gone. That’s all been done. It can be left like that. It’s been left like that for years— _so why should it change now?_

I feel like throwing up the second I get myself out the front door, and I automatically double over in case it happens, but nothing does. I feel empty. My mouth is dry and everything else inside me feels like it’s beginning to shrink and crack and it’s all warping like wet timber and then it’ll slowly but quickly start a fire and then that’s when the water will start to run and I’ll be just—wanting to pull the fucking world over myself—and I hope it’ll crush down on my throat because then— _I won’t have to think if I don’t let my thoughts breathe._

I don’t need to think anymore.

I don’t have to.

I _shouldn’t_ have to.

But nothing happens when I wish for that. I’m sitting on the steps again. Where I sat for a good two hours in patience and determination—now I’m wanting to run away from my plans.

_God, I can’t tell Nathan._

_If that’s true._

_If any of this is._

_What if he knows and he’s been lying all this time?_

It’s until then I begin to realise this was never actually in Nathan’s favour, it was in mine. He wanted to find his trails—and somehow, it’s lead me back to _my_ trails.

_And why’s that?_

_Where’s the answer to that?_

_Have I been living in a completely different world for the last decade?_

“I owe you a lot.”

The manic in my head stops when I notice that Sister Catherine is sitting beside me.

She turns her head to me, eyes sad but rich with colour, “It’s all my fault that you’re like this.” She looks down into her lap, at her hands. Her knuckles are white. “If you want to blame anyone, I’m here for that.”

Even though she hasn’t been with me through the years when I left, I asked her anyway, “Why can’t I remember anything?” Even though she won’t have the answer to that. If she did, I knew she’d give it to me in a heartbeat.

She makes a face at me—the one you make to a child, assuring them that everything’s alright, when it isn’t. It never will be alright.

“Come with me.” She says, her fingers brush over the denim on my right shoulder as she gets up off the step. She walks back to the front door.

I follow.

 

* * *

 

“This was your dormitory. Here.”

It’s cold, the spacious room hasn’t been used in a long time, I could sense it. It hadn’t been cleaned; I could smell that, the air hung heavy around the two of us like a thick fog. It was dense. It felt familiar, and it didn’t at the same time. If reincarnation was something to believe in, then at some point, I don’t know when, I was here. One of my many ghosts perhaps.

_When things were a lot different to now. I don’t believe in change._

But I know that’s just me, and nothing else.

_It’s a really bad memory._

“You…when you left…” Sister Catherine chuckles a little, to herself, at the thought, whatever it was, something I probably didn’t recall either, “…you climbed through here.” She set her hand on one of the windows, her slim fingers resting upon the dust of the frame.

“You mean I jumped out a window?” I asked. She turns to face me. My tone sounded abrupt then, I hope she didn’t take that to heart.

She hums, “Yes. After you smashed the local church’s windows, that is.”

“Why am I here.” I mutter.

She walks over to where I’m stood. The room is too big. It’s empty. It feels deep but I know it’s shallow, really.

“I was there with Father Duffy when your father dropped you off. Outside on those steps, with your br—“

“That’s not true.” I laugh, I’m scared, “That’s not true.” It isn’t true. None of it.

_Don’t lie._

She blinks, thinks for beat. “Tell me why, then.” Her voice is soft. “Why don’t you believe it?”

_Because I don’t remember it._

“It’s just not true.” I stammer, “I-I mean I never _knew_ , that’s why I’m saying it’s not true.” _And? Him? You?_ “And…lots of stuff has happened. And…that…that doesn’t make it…” I can’t tell her anymore. She doesn’t need to know that. That’s for me to figure out. “I can’t. I’m sorry.”

She doesn’t push it. I liked that about her. She understands. She’s aware.

“When you were new here I was your mentor for the first few years,” she says, “You weren’t happy for the first few months.”

It’s dusk when I look through the window. There’s a bed beside it. There’s no sheets on the mattress.

“You and I became enemies for a while.” Her voice is light when I hear how she remembers the scene when I couldn’t. “Your behaviour wore off on Nathan. And he became quite insistent, like you.”

I let her finish.

“But…I know I should have done more for you both. And I didn’t.”

“Is that all?” I say.

She doesn’t say anything else, and I wait. But when I do, still, nothing else. I feel her expression before I see it. She’s realised something I haven’t.

“Is Nathan with you?”

“I’m of legal age to keep him with me.” I can’t help but be defensive on that one, because there was no way Nathan was going anywhere else.

“I was just asking.” Sister Catherine turns to the door. “Do you want more assurance?”

“On what?”

“That you both share the same blood.”


	50. Chapter 50

_Sam_

_~_

I’m given several documents when I’m sat back in Father Duffy’s office.

There’s a page with a picture of me, just my profile. It looks like a mugshot. I’m young in the photo, probably the same age as Nathan. I look softer, and I can point out of the changes. My date of birth is on the page, my mother and father’s names, where my previous residence was, and then at the very bottom of the black print, was cursive handwriting. The words were written in red ink.

_> Vandalised the church down the road after dinner, 6:30pm. Left without permission. Smashed the main windows. Left through his dormitory window once he came back unseen. He’d been planning to leave for quite some time. Didn’t say anything regarding the matter to his brother._

“Funny, isn’t it.”

Father Duffy is still sitting in the same place, and I’m back in the same seat after I took off for a half hour or so—I just got as far as the steps, which was a complete fail.

“What, reading this?” I say to him, and he hums.

“You were ten years old when you left.” He states. “Police couldn’t find you.”

I nod.

“That page you’re holding is a good decade old,” he says. He pulls out Nathan’s. “So is this one.”

I read over it, quickly.

On our profiles the print says we’re both brothers.

It says our mother was named Cassandra Morgan. ‘Recently committed suicide’.

And our father.

He supposedly couldn’t take care of us.

It was real. I knew that. But I didn’t believe it. I still couldn’t. I _couldn’t_. Meeting a total stranger and one day you happen to find out you’re related to them—how the _fuck_ was that meant to even _work_?

And despite everything else that has happened between us, if it’s really true—if it’s _real_ —then that must mean we’re both considered to be antichrists if we’re wanting to have sex with each other.

“Okay.” I say.

“And then, one day, your little brother got picked up by your father.”

I listen.

“Packed his stuff and left the orphanage. He didn’t ask about you. The news had probably already gotten to him. We didn’t say anything.”

_Then somewhere along the line he must have left Nathan with that woman. Unless something else happened that nobody knows about. Maybe Nathan ran off like I did._

There was still so many questions.

But I couldn’t ask all of them. Some of them would raise suspicion if I did.

“Was there anyone else?” I ask quietly.

Father Duffy blinks. “I remember you both receiving letters from an old woman.”

“Do you still have them?”

He blinks again, a little bewildered at my immediate response. “It’s…been years since then.”

“Yeah. You’re right. Sorry.”

He waves a dismissive hand, “Anyway, this woman never visited you. I think she was called Evelyn. Said in the mail she was a close friend of your mother’s—an old one on that, too.”

My eyes move down to Nathan’s picture as he carries on.

“The letters stopped coming through one day. I remember you started crying.”

I could start crying right now if I really wanted.

Father Duffy stops then, frowns to himself, “Wait a second,” he gets up from his seat and goes to the cabinet where he pulled out the files from before. He takes out a bunch of keys from his trouser pocket and unlocks one of the metal drawers.

And he takes out a small, scuffed, worn cardboard box.

“This is yours.” He says simply. “We…we kept it. W-well incase you ever came back, we kept this.”

He pushes it towards me across the desk.

I set aside the documents.

When my fingers brush across the rough, dusted sides nothing familiar comes to me. I open it.

There’s a very old copy of _Treasure Island_ set into it, the front cover battered. A pack of cards, loosely kept together with a rubber band that looks like it’s about to snap with age. There’s a tinged chain sprawled, and I pick it up.

There’s a fine, thin, dainty pendant resembling a cross hanging from the end of it.

I turn it over in my fingers, spot a small engraving on it’s underside: _C.M._

I stuff it into my jacket pocket.

There’s an envelope among the few belongings I once had. The paper has yellowed. I don’t open it. I don’t want to.

I pick it up, take it out, close the box, push it back.

Father Duffy cocks his head. “Sorted?”

“You should throw it out.” I say, my voice suddenly hoarse. “It’s a bad reminder.”

“I see.”

“I had better go.”

“So soon?”

“You want me to stay?”

He scoffs. “You’ve more questions, Samuel. Don’t you?”

_Yeah. A lot._

I’m already up and out of my seat, the envelope and documents in my hand—I fold them twice so they can fit into my back pocket.

Even though I don’t want to, I say, “I’ll come back.”

Father Duffy nods, understanding. “Alright. Too much in one day?”

“Telling me I have a brother?” I respond sarcastically. “Yeah. It really wrecks your nerves.”

 

* * *

 

I have to pull over when I’m driving. 

I’m just about halfway back to the apartment, and I sit there on the curb for a good twenty minutes or so with a headache.

It’s gotten dark. Last time I checked the time was in Duffy’s boxy office. It had been verging on eight o’clock then, meaning it had to be nine around now.

I take out my phone, for a little company, even though I had the warming-yellow streetlights for that. I had only gotten two messages from Ewan.

_Ewan: Everything OK??_

_Ewan: Nathan just called me a creep /:_

I smile a little at the last message.

I hadn’t gotten a single call, which was good. At least they were relaxed. At least they both had some trust in me, together, to know I hadn’t ran off and gotten myself killed or something.

I debate whether I should give Ewan a call, to say I’m almost home, but I quickly shrug the thought off. I didn’t need to say that. There was no rush.

I wait for the brief headache to fade, and I feel myself drift off in the dark, nightly cold air. A few cars whizz past, and I watch the lights dance across the concrete. Through the trees that surrounded the road I could see the peaks of buildings—the opposite side of town, the heart. Lights glittered in their peaks.

I blink tiredly.

A moment later I remember I had the unopened envelope stored in the inside of my jacket, against my left, against my ribcage. I take it out, the paper soft when I touch it.

I rip it open.

_It’s going to be more bullshit evidence to say I’m about to fuck a child, it’s going to shout at me, the ink is going to be there and it’s going to be real, and it’s going to make me feel the worst I’ve ever felt. It’s gonna say everything that’ll put me away—_

—But it doesn’t.


	51. Chapter 51

_Sam_

_~_

 

 

 

—But it doesn’t.

_“You’re going to be a big brother.”_

—But it doesn’t.

_“And you’re going to love him, like you love me.”_

—But it doesn’t.

_“It’ll be the three of us.”_

—But it doesn’t.

_“You’ll love it.”_

—But it doesn’t.

“Just us.”

—But it doesn’t.

_“Against everything.”_

Everything.

_“And **him** —_

And him.

Of course.

 

 

But it never _was_.

Never _was_ the three of us.

Never _will_ be the three of us.

 

 

 

* * *

 

I hadn’t properly looked at what was inside the envelope before I turned it over.

I had only felt the silk grit of photo film, a Polaroid shot, there were three or four, I immediately knew, and I just had to have a mere second—a glimpse shorter than that—to know who the young woman was in the picture.

Homesickness wasn’t what I’d call it.

Because there was no home. There never was a home. I never remembered having that stability. I was never pre-programmed with it. But now, I never thought that seeing a single photo would bring all of that loss back into you.

Mother was mid-smiling, mouth somewhat open, talking to the youth she held at her hip, her other arm around another’s slim shoulders. He’s soft in the face, fresh out of innocence, he’s stolen these dark hazel eyes that once belonged to his father. The other has his blue, like his mother.

The youth is me. The youth is Nathan. The woman is our mother. The photographer is our father.

It’s all so shallow. So old so faded.

Barely there in the back of my head, yet the memory is vivid, seeing it in front of me is overwhelming, despite how faint and weak it seems in my fingers, holding the few minutes in inanimate form.

I turn the photo around, idly, tears already heavy in my eyes, and I see her handwriting. It’s hers, I know it is, because there was only ever one woman in the family that had such cursive writing. There was only one woman that grew apart from the three of us. _Why should we go back to it now when there’s nothing left to work from?_

I don’t bother looking at the other photos, because I don’t want to crack up. Not yet at least.

When I’m close to dying I’ll look at them.

_Hm._

_That’s a good idea._

When I put the envelope back into my pocket I lean my elbows down on my knees. Hard. I have to dig my nails into the back of my right hand for a few seconds to keep myself calm. I breathe. I breathe.

I breathe again.

I breathe once more.

I breathe out.

Then I’m okay.

 

* * *

 

It’s late, and I feel numb when I find myself standing at the door of my apartment.

I don’t know how I’m meant to tell Nathan. I don’t know how I’m meant to tell him _anything_. It’s all been lies. What if it goes the wrong way round? What’ll happen then? If he gets the wrong idea then that’s it.

 _Finished_.

Knowing it’s unlocked I open the door.

I see Ewan. He’s sat on the sofa. He grins when he sees me. I kick off my shoes at the door.

“Where’d you run off to?” He’s made himself comfortable, cross-legged.

I sit down beside him.

I feel him look at me. “Sam?”

“Yeah.” I say, to let him know I’m there. But it’s not a response to his question.

I feel his gaze soften. “What the hell happened?” _Fuck, fuck._

I feel my voice shudder when I speak. “A lot—happened. That’s what.” _I’m not going to tell you anything._

He rests his elbows at his knees and leans forward a little, as if wanting my attention. “Hey. Look at me.”

I don’t.

His fingers tug at my jacket sleeve. “C’mon, man.”

“I don’t know how to explain it.”

“Then you don’t have to.”

I meet his gaze, quite reluctantly.

He stares right into me, and I don’t know whether to feel uncomfortable or scared.

“On a scale of one to ten?” He asks gently.

I need to whisper. It’s not real. Because my voice is cracking up at the thought. None of it is. “Eleven.”

Ewan blinks. “Realistically?”

“I don’t know.”

I really don’t know.

 _Was_ it bad?

Or was it good?

_It’s bad because it ruins everything._

_So why is it good?_

Point made.

_But it’s not enough._

It’s so small.

_So little._

“Ewan, I…” His name sounds foreign against my tongue, and it makes me think even more when I look at him and he looks at me, it makes me think about him as a person and how much underlying trust and loyalty is really there.

I shake my head. “No. It’s fine.”

It’s not fine.

It fucking isn’t.

It isn’t, Sam.

_Fucking understand that._

I shake my head again, shut my eyes, cover my face for a second, suck in a shaky breath, “Nathan and I are related.”

“Wait what?”

“We’re brothers.”

“You’re fucking jo—“

“I’m not joking.”

“Who told—“

“I went to my orphanage. They gave me documents. They gave me birthdates.” I’m going to cry. “They…gave me everything.”

I’m going to cry. “Everything’s fucked, Ewan.” I’m going to cry. “I’ve fucked everything up—“ _I need help_. “—I-I don’t know if it’s even _real_ or not—and—God, I-I don’t know _how_ I’m meant to tell Nathan—“

“Then you _don’t_.”

I can feel his comfort smooth across the middle of my back, it’s his arm, and he’s pulling me close to him, and it’s warm and nice and calming.

He presses his forehead to mine, and he keeps looking at me. His eyes are scary. He repeats, quietly, “Then you don’t.”

“I can’t do that.” I say.

“Yes you can.” His voice is a whisper. “But I wouldn’t. But it’s your choice. Do you want to?”

“I don’t know.”

“Then don’t. If you’re not sure, don’t. Not yet.”

_That’s it?_

I feel like there was more to it. There was more. He was going to say more. He was going to love me up more, but he chose not to. 

_And for what?_

“I want to die.” I say. “Kill me.”

“Killing people is expensive.”

I’m not sure if I burst out laughing, or if I started crying, or maybe I did both within two seconds, because it reminded me of pulling the sheet off Nathan to reveal him blushed in black and blue—and hearing a gunshot and familiar thump of a body hitting the floor—it was gonna make me suffer for a while.

“Yeah.” I hear myself sniffle, and I’m rubbing my eyes. They’re sore. I’m crying. I haven’t properly done this in years. This is an achievement. This is good. This feels good.

_It’s so warm._

 


	52. Chapter 52

_Sam_

_~_

“Is this your mom?”

“Hm.”

“Nathan looks a lot like her.”

“I must have looked like my dad.”

”Probably.”

When I walked through the door I thought this was it. I thought that Nathan would be waiting for an answer—that he’d be wanting one immediately, that he’d slip his fingers into my palms and ask what I now dreaded the most, and he’d kiss me—and he’d know instantly if I didn’t kiss back.

But he wasn’t there.

He was fast asleep in my bed, out of earshot.

Ewan blinked, careful with what way he held the photos, like they would crumble if he gripped them too hard. It showed off his sentimentality, which was comforting to watch. He cared.

“Are you…gonna go back?” He turns his head to me, concern in his eyes.

“Yeah,” I say, “I said I’d go back. I didn’t want to stay any longer.”

“Kinda mean to throw all that on to you with no warning.”

“Hm. But it was worth going through.”

“How so?” He gives me the photos, and I look through them again, I look at the faces.

“I…made amends with one of the nuns.”

He hums, tries not to smile, to humour me, to lighten up the atmosphere. “I couldn’t imagine you like that.”

I shake my head. “That was when…I apparently devoted my life to Jesus.”

He laughs. “Were there other ten year old antichrists?”

I nod. “Quite a few.”

He blinks and smiles, but I don’t look at him. I know what he’s doing. He knows it’s not going to make everything happy again. But he’s trying.

“Thanks.” I say quietly. I wasn’t sure if he heard me. I pick out the photo of Nathan.

“It’s…what I’m here for.” He responds as I glance at him. He purses his lips, like there’s more to say.

“Sam?”

“Yeah?”

He lets out a sigh as he sits forward again, close. He hesitates.

“It doesn’t matter.”

 

* * *

 

At some point I must have fallen asleep against Ewan, or maybe he left before I did, and I just can’t remember when his body heat left my side, because when I wake my head is against one of the sofa cushions, and an old blanket is thrown across my body, up to the crook of my neck.

I let out a soft grunt as I roll onto my back, pressure forming somewhere at the back of my head. I’d slept in what I had worn from yesterday, and I can feel something stabbing me in the thigh. I reach a blind hand down to the front of my jean pockets, check the left, then the right, and I pull out a necklace.

I hold it up to the light, and I see a cross dangle between my eyes. My mother’s initials are still stamped into one of its sides.

I have an urge to toss it across the room, hope it breaks or slides into a gap I can never get into, and it’ll rust over, or it’ll fall somewhere else, deep, deeper than that, further, underneath my feet and underneath my life.

But I drop it onto the scratched glass of the coffee table and turn away from it.

I check my phone.

_Ewan: I’ll be back at 2. I left some cash. Find it on the counter._

“You think it protects you?”

I curse out loud, and my heart jumps when I feel a pair of slim arms curl around my neck, Nathan’s voice directly behind my right ear.

I sigh and close my eyes, lean into his hold, a little, mentally uncomfortable. “Does what protect me?”

“That.”

I glance at the necklace on the table. “It’s not mine.”

“Who’s is it then?”

Ours. Now.

“Your mother’s.”

I want to turn my head a bit, to have a look at him, to see his face and see the confusion written through him, but I decide not to. As a result his arms slowly pull away from me, and the warmth fades.

He picks up the cross. He sees the initials, I know. “What was her name?”

I feel small under his voice. “I don’t know.”

He puts it back. “What else did you find out.”

I bite my lip. He looks at me.

“A lot.” I choke out, already wanting to cry.

He blinks. “A lot?”

I nod.

He comes over then.

He comes to kiss me.

And he hesitates.

And we look at each other.

And he holds my face, thumbs brushing across my bones. He helps me breathe, leans in a little, waits for me to lean too, but I don’t.

_And he wonders why._

“Stop acting so strong for once.” He whispers to me. “Pretend I’m older than you for once.”

_Pretend I’m your brother._

 

* * *

 

 

 

_But you don’t **need** to pretend._

“He’ll lose it if you leave.”

_“It doesn’t affect me.”_

“They’re ours.”

_“They’re yours.”_

_They’re_ **_mine_**.

 

 

 

* * *

 

It’s the fucking aftermath that really hurts.

It’s the stone-cold reality that really hurts, and watching it crumble and weep and realise everything itself—that it’s life has been a complete lie, changed to perfection, to the point where your _real_ life seems like it’s a lie, because you’ve been preprogrammed to love your change when you really shouldn’t— _I fucking hate it_. The more you love someone, anything and everything, when something goes wrong; tilts ever so slightly—you’re bound to hate them with a fiery passion that won’t leave until you do something about it.

You tend to regret what you do afterwards, though.

_Because you know how much you love them._

And you don’t tell them that.

_You don’t tell them the truth._

Because it’ll make them hate you.

_And then they’ll repeat your mistake._

Over and over.

_And then when it’s done—_

“What is this?”

—they’ll hate _themselves_.

I should stop staring.

But if I don’t my coverage will fall.

If I glare into oblivion it’ll seem like I’m not lost, like I’m trying to figure something out, like I’m trying to find a cure for the problem—one that can never be fixed—but he can see right through me.

He can smash his way through that coverage.

_Because he’s been there before._

And he wonders why he can see my colours so clearly.

_Because he’s been there before._

And he wonders why he’s playing cute, families and relations, love.

Because he’s been there before.

_But he doesn’t remember that._

I look away from Nathan’s gaze.

“It’s our documents. Birth certificates.” I say hoarsely, “They’re real.”

“Yeah.” He responds immediately, and I’m surprised by how calm his voice is, “I can see that.”

I rub the back of my neck and cast a downward glance.

“Sam, look at me.”

I don’t.

“Sam.”

I can’t.

“Sam.”

I don’t. I can’t. I _won’t_ —

“Jesus _Christ_.”

And I’m crying when he has to get up off the sofa to get down on his knees to me, to brush his thumbs across my cheekbones, to swipe away my tears with each stroke he gives to me.

And we look at each other.

And I think we both wonder to ourselves whether we want to follow this newly-found evidence or not.

“Why aren’t you crying?” I ask him.

“Should I be crying?” He asks back.

I sob. “I-I don’t know.”

He lets me pull away from his hold, even though it’s comforting, my body has became familiar with it feeling sexual, and now my brain has somehow decided it officially wants to recognise Nathan as my brother, even though the butterflies keep saying he isn’t and he never _will_ be my brother but the butterflies are so confused with the situation that they’re  leaving the space where it all takes place.

They have no reason to be here.

Now that desire is out of the question.

But does it have to be like that?

“Are you angry.” I say.

He picks at his nails. “I’m confused.” He glances back up. “I’m in shock. That’s why I’m not showing any emotion.”

“Are you upset?”

He looks up at me. “You’ll see me cry when we find the rest.”

I blink away my tears, sniffle out a response. “The rest of what?”

“The truth, hopefully.“


	53. Chapter 53

_Sam_

_~_

At exactly ten to three the apartment door unlocks and Ewan pokes his head round the corner, dark hair damp and new stubble prickling along his jaw and chin.

“Hey.” He says gently, smiles meekly at me, and I try to smile back.

“Hi.” I mutter back as he shuts the door behind him.

“You get the cash?”

“Yeah. Thank you—y’know, for leaving it.”

He walks into the lounge, and huffs down beside me. Our shoulders press together. I blink down at the table in front of us and the cross is still sitting there.

Nathan had surrendered to the bedroom twenty minutes before Ewan landed, documents and photos and journal pressed up his arm whilst balancing a pen between his teeth. Before locking himself in the bedroom with everything he seemed to need, he said ‘don’t come in. I’m doing work.’

So he was still in there. Currently. I tried not to think of him locked in the bedroom. I hope he’s okay. I hope he’s not crying his eyes out. I hope he’s not resenting anything. Or anyone.

“Sam.”

I feel Ewan’s fingers tug at my sweatshirt, to pull me back from my thoughts, and I realise he’s put his arm around the back of the sofa. I can smell him.

“I’m fine.” I say.

“You just answered a question I didn’t even ask.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Stop apologising—“

“I can’t help it.”

I turn my head to him, feel our knees bump against each other. “Where’d you go?”

“What’d you do?”

I frown. “I asked you first, dick.”

He chuckles. “I uh—went to do some errands. You?”

“Told Nathan.” _Just, fuck._

There’s a moment of silence before he responds. “Is he…okay?”

I blink. “I…I don’t know.”

Ewan’s head turns to where the bedroom was locate, then looks back to me. Then back to the bedroom door. He furrows his brows. He looks back in my direction.

“Sam,” his voice is suddenly warning.

It literally takes me a second to know, and I’m up and out of my place, grabbing the bedroom door handle, and I feel myself shouting. “Nathan?!“

_If I find him bleeding—_

“What?”

—and he’s fine.

He’s standing there, clearly confused, looking me up down, and for a moment I see Sister Catherine behind the door instead, my surroundings flashing into the brick of the orphanage, I can see the white of my eyes for a moment, and I’m suddenly plagued with a splitting, full-frontal headache, and then Nathan’s back in view.

“I was just…”

_You’re just confused. You’re just overthinking. You’re just tired._

Give it a rest already.

I forget what I‘m going to say, and I’m staggering back away from him, briefly bumping into Ewan before I feel my eyes dart around the lounge for my jacket; I grab it and make a break for the door, pull on my worn Chuck Taylor’s and don’t even think when I open the door, and I feel Ewan’s dominant grasp latch onto my arm and I’m reeled back.

“Just— _wait_ a fucking second,” he says, half-laughing at my reaction, but his smile falls when he properly looks me in the eye. He can see my urgency. I don’t know what it is. But I need to get out. I need to get the rest of what Nathan wants. “Where the hell are you off to now?”

I blink twice. “I said I’d go back.”

Ewan seems taken aback. “Like—right _now_?”

“Well, no, just—whenever.”

He looks at me blankly.

I rephrase. “Yes, as in— _right now_.”

 

* * *

 

I try not to think when I’m driving, because getting killed on the road is probably the worst way to die; without your dignity you’re worthless. Out here you won’t be remembered by anyone because you don’t know anyone, you’re just another face out there in the world, like everyone else that stakes out in this area. I wonder why it even exists, that it _still_ exists. It will continue that way. Frankly, reality hardly changes.

_Is that why everyone tries to run away from it?_

I don’t park my bike in the orphanage grounds, I park just outside it, a few feet from the main gate to sit on the curb and think everything through before I go and meet Father Duffy, and possibly Sister Catherine for a second time.

I sigh to myself. I take in my surroundings. The chilling air. The trees. The church at the other end of the road. The quietness of it all. The deadness.

For a minute it’s like the world has been plunged into a post-apocalyptic dimension, because of how silent the distant roads are, because there are no echoes of distant cars, and it’s like it’s just me on the curb with the wind and the trees—

“ _Sasha!_ ”

There’s this break in my silence and there’s these desperate footsteps coming round the corner of the open gate _way_ too quickly, and the unfamiliar name is shouted out again, voice far, somewhere in the parking lot, I could imagine one of the nuns standing at the front door.

It’s not long before the running footsteps come to a stop, and I look up to see a boy stood outside the gate.

His eyes glare into me.

They’re green.

He’s got dark hair. He’s got tanned skin.

He’s no older than Nathan, maybe slightly older, considering his body. He’s at that graceless age of maturity, somewhere along those lines—

“ _Sasha! Get back here this instant!_ ”

His head turns behind him, and he gives me a look before sprinting off in the opposite direction, down towards the church.

I stand and forget my intentions of sitting there, and out of curiosity I find myself walking towards the gate, and when I turn around the corner I’m greeted by one of the nuns—one that I seem to startle, because she lets out a yelp.

“Y-You didn’t happen to see a boy run past you?” She asks, clearly out of breath.

I look down the road to the church, and respond, I tell her the truth, “He’s not gonna get far in that direction.”

 


	54. Chapter 54

_Sam_

_~_

_> There’s a drop off and he leaves me there with someone._

I’m there with Nathan when it happens, even though I don’t recall it my head, I have to pretend if I want to link it all up, I might understand then, if I do that. We should be in a car at this point, we should be seated in the backseat, and the drop off is where Sister Catherine and Father Duffy come into our lives.

If it’s then, I tell my father to go kill himself in that moment.

_> Mom is dead._

It makes sense to some extent.

Maybe the bond broke when she left, maybe I should have sympathy for my father, no one could ever move on after experiencing that—he dropped us both at the orphanage—and that doesn’t add up. There’s a reason behind that. Why did I tell him to die? Was it just anger? Or was it something else?

_> There was a woman too. I didn’t know where she went. She read me books. She read Latin to me. I think._

The nuns taught us Latin, so that could be a point, but…it’s too specific, so it couldn’t be. I know it. It doesn’t sound like it.

“Why did she stop sending letters?”

Father Duffy and I are sitting in the widespread dining hall, the space empty and cleared of boys; they were currently outside having their lunch break. It feels too familiar when I peer up at the harrowing ceiling that seems to climb up to a point, having a church’s traditional curves and patterned structure. All they needed to do was paint the damn thing.

_Maybe they could slap in some cherubs to signify how ‘pure’ the boys are in this place, paint the curves of a naked woman to satisfy the rigidness of sexuality, stick in Adam somewhere too—or no, create an adaptation of The Last Supper. See how that works._

“We can all pray in here instead.” I utter too quietly for anyone or anything to hear. 

“Well, she died, didn’t she?” The question was clearly rhetorical, but I looked at Duffy as if he had no idea what had happened, and he was asking _me_ the question. His lips formed into a thin line as his eyes followed out the window we were stood by. It lead out into the front yard; where the boys played.

“Did you read any of them?” I ask. I see a seven year old bound up to one of the older ones, he hooks a little arm round his leg, giggles, and he’s heaved up into the other’s arms. They’re both laughing.

“The letters?”

“Yeah.”

“A few, yes.” Father Duffy sighs, slips his weathered hands into his trouser pockets. “She always used to say how she would come to pick you both up one day.”

My eyes pull away from the children as he continues.

“I think that had been her plan all along.”

“Plan?”

“I assume. Before your mother passed she may have asked this woman to take you both in, like a godmother of some sort.”

I can’t help but scoff at his suggestion. “Uh-huh, that definitely happened.”

“She died before she could take you both in, Samuel.”

I swallow as our gazes meet.

“I remember her saying she was sick. Sometimes she’d say she was getting better. The next she wouldn’t.” He says, looks back out the window, suddenly smiles a little, “See that kid there?”

I turn my head and follow his gaze to the boys outside, and he indicates which one.

It’s the kid from before.

The one with the scary glare.

He’s slumped against one of the cobblestone walls, out of the mix of the others, and he’s looking at something. Or maybe he’s just really deep in thought. He looks a little troubled, maybe insecure, but his expression is hard. Harder than it should seem.

“I saw him earlier.” I say automatically. “He looked kinda scary.”

Father Duffy lets out a low, warm chuckle. “He’s new. Disturbed. Spitting image of you.”

I blink at the boy from afar.

“Tried to run off. This is the second time he’s done it. Caretaker down the road caught him just in time.”

I gave a nod. “A spitting image huh?”

“He’s got your attitude. But he doesn’t have your sentimentality.”

“You’ve never seen my sentimentality.”

“Oh, I have,” Father Duffy pauses, comes away from the window, “Your fight is your sentimentality. You’ve shown it from the very beginning. Shows how much you care.”

 

* * *

 

I _do_ remember certain things. I _do_ have memories.

I just don’t remember all of them.

And some of them I just…don’t _want_ to remember.

At the time I had became not close, not too friendly, not warm, but content and mutual with a few other boys my age. However they had been in the orphanage longer, and I was still new, and they were friendly with some of the older ones. The ones that were testing the waters of sexuality and whatnot, the rebels, you could call them.

Somewhere along the lines I remember getting wound up outside with at least three sixteen year olds, and two others my own age, and we were laughing, wandering barefoot down the road to the church thirty seconds away from the orphanage. It was three in the morning. One of the older boys had somehow gotten ahold of a bottle of whiskey, and a couple of other spirits, and we were all taking swigs off each, egging each other to chug and do all sorts.

I think I was verging on turning eleven, but one thing was for sure—I was too mature for my age, which came with many advantages.

Someone out of the group got too hyped and ended up vomiting directly outside the church, and we were all in fits of hysterical laughter.

“You…don’t happen to have that woman’s address?”

“I might. You gonna do some detective work?”

“I guess you could call it that.”

 

* * *

 

The address was just on the other side of town, the north, away from the orphanage and the area of where I was situated. It was rather secluded, somewhere where I had never traveled up to, the richer part of the city, the _out-of-the-way_ part of the city.

I have the place written on a yellow sticky note.

I had it all figured out now.

Well, at least the majority of it.

_Ninety percent._

The other ten percent just wasn’t there.

It’ll just come whenever it wants to.

_Because that ten percent is all memories._

“And he’s _back_.”

The door is locked when I try to open it, and it confuses me momentarily, but then I recall running out the door without the key, too wrapped in my expectations. None of it really payed off.

“I got an address.” I state as I pass Ewan.

“What, you’re someone’s client now?”

“Fuck you.”

He laughs at that. “I’m heading out.”

I turn back to him after I’ve kicked off my shoes. “Where to?”

He gives a shrug, and I notice he’s already dressed to leave, leather jacket zipped and motorcycle keys hanging from his fingers. “Some more errands. Give me a call if you need anything, alright mate?”

I feel somewhat bewildered when I blink at him, at what he’s said the moment I came through the door, adding to our population of three, now he’s leaving without further notice. But it doesn’t bother me. At least I don’t think it does.

“Right. Uh, sure.” I say, giving a nod, and he cocks his head at me, a smile tugs one corner of his lips, and my eyes trail down the exposed skin of his neck. He leaves before I can look at him again, gives a short shout to Nathan, and the boy responds, and I feel the child’s little fingers touch my elbow as the door shuts.

And it feels like we’ve grown apart for some reason.

And I’m thinking of when he was gone for weeks.

And I’m thinking of being sprawled against Ewan’s body, breathless and mentally exhausted, him confessing he shares the same traits as I do, likes people he isn’t meant to like, at the wrong time and in the wrong place, our skin and warmth pressed against the grimed floor, and I can hear his heart and feel him as close as I can feel Nathan.

And it’s like Nathan isn’t _there_.

_Anymore._

I look down at the boy stood beside me, fingers latched onto the arm of my sweatshirt. I see his eyes. They’re like Mom’s. I see the faint freckles along the bridge of his nose.

“I need to tell you something.” He whispers, and something breaks inside of me.

_You’re not there anymore._


	55. Chapter 55

_Sam_

_~_

We leave it for a while.

“Are you hungry?” I ask.

Nathan is sat at the table. “I don’t know.”

“I can make you some sandwiches.”

He’s silent for a second. “No.”

I come away from the kitchen counter and shut the fridge door, then go to sit opposite him. I move my hands across the table and hesitantly weave my fingers into his. He doesn’t seem to mind it.

“I think about you a lot.” He starts quietly, his thumbs brushing over my knuckles.

I can feel he’s trying to surface something, but I don’t know what. “Yeah?” I say, kind of randomly, because I don’t know how else I could keep the words flowing.

“I…knew for quite some time actually.”

_What?_

I blink twice. _Knew what?_ “Knew what?”

His hands slowly pull away, “That…I had a brother.”

 _Oh. Okay._ “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I-I wasn’t sure if it was true or not…”

_Well it sure is now._

I lean back in my seat, and swallow away the dryness. “You said there was always someone with you.”

Nathan purses his lips. “Yeah.”

“You’re saying you think it was me?” I say.

His expression hardens at that. “Well who the hell else could it have been?”

When word got out about this at the orphanage I thought Nathan would have a difficult time getting his head around it, being told that he had lost the majority of his childhood, lost his mother and father, lost that _other_ _person_ , his _brother_ —and somehow ended washed up in the outskirts of a city, but I guess I had supposed wrongly.

The fact that he _knew_ there was someone else with him at the time, someone he loved, _like_ a brother, having being introduced the topic now wouldn’t bother him one bit, but I thought that…once he found out that him and I were related it would just… _ruin us._

For some reason it feels like _I’m_ the one who’s not taking it well. It doesn’t feel fair.

“I haven’t been completely truthful with you.” Nathan says.

I don’t respond, but let him continue.

“I’ve seen you a few times. Before I came up to you in the park.” He pauses, “You always felt really familiar to me. It felt like you had been there with me at one point, you…felt a lot like _him_.”

“If that’s the case I just need to figure out why I don’t remember anything.”

I must have said that quite bluntly, completely out of the blue, because he let out a quiet chuckle. “We probably both got hit on the head or something.“

“Yeah. Maybe—“

 

 

 

_And then it happens._

 

 

 

It breaks again.

 

 

 

_And it opens up something vast._

 

 

 

It’s like getting hit by a collision of waves, the chilling water cutting through your skin when it passes through your ankles, and it pulls back the sand and stones, the chips of sea glass rolling beneath your feet, new and old, and it hurts when you’re still standing there, and it’s cold around your shoulders and their blades— _how do I know what that feels like?_ —

 

 

 

— _and it feels like a loop when you finally remember the moment._

 

 

 

The water is filling up the space in my head when I think.

I’m looking at the ligaments in my hands when I see the picture in front of my mind, it overlays across my skin, moves like an animation, makes it seem as if I’m torn across two different worlds, two different dimensions, two different states of time, each with different people at different ages and each feeling different things all at once— _and it’s suffocating_ —there’s a man with my eyes and my jaw, standing close, _we share the same bones_ , the same thoughts somehow, _the same blood_ , I have his inside me, and he’s saying something.

There’s an arch in his brow, in my gut I can sense what I’ve said to him, there’s a cold airy touch at both my heels, the carpet isn’t there, one hand is set at the banister, the other brushing the wall, and the man says something, and it tugs and tears at my lungs, like I’m going to cry— _and then he reaches out and the carpet beneath my feet slips and the banister is suddenly out of reach and I’ve no grip on the wall and I realise it was a staircase I was testing water in, and there’s a harrowing gap between my father and mother._

He shouts for her when time slows, and she’s frantic to crawl to the landing of the staircase, thrusts her arms out to catch me _and it’s so painful_ when I see my father distantly stood, visibly ashamed, the anger flees as the real emotion replaces it, _but it doesn’t reach either of us in time_ —and I hear my mother crying— _when she misses._

I don’t feel the hurt when I hit the back of my head against the last step of the staircase.

I’m inches away from her arms, years away from my father’s gaze, and it shows which of them that really cared.

And when I blink Nathan is still in front of me.

_And I’m asleep in a bed for a few months._

_And I don’t remember who anyone is when I finally awake._

_And I can remember how scary it was._

“Sam?”

“I’m here.”

“You’re not.”

“I am.”

“You’re crying.”

_It’s exactly like when I woke up to the smell of bleached youth._

_And there he is sitting beside me._

Dark circles around his brown eyes, a fifteen years onward reflection of my future self. It’s frightening when his hand on mine, because I don’t know who he is, and his fingers are grappling onto my forearm, pulling me incredibly close to him, it’s so uncomfortable, feeling the roughness of his weathered skin being forced upon my own, my inexperienced-childish self—even though it’s all innocent somewhere— _I know that_ —but the panic is too real, and I say to him, _‘Stop touching me.’_

When he’s doing nothing wrong.

_He’s just loving me._

And he’s crying, _‘You’re okay.’_

 

 

 

_And it’s my father._

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

_It’s a hell of a lot to fucking process._

I don’t think any other human being could withstand it, besides myself; maybe God is real and it’s like what the nuns had always told me, that he gives me strength when I need it, but I don’t take their word for it, because I’ll never know that until I reach the limit of living, because that’ll one day be the truth of today.

Just not yet.

“I think I know what happened.” I say quietly, sat cross-legged on the floor of the kitchen, my back uncomfortably leant against the fridge. Ewan is crouched opposite me, picking at his nails.

“I was having some sort of argument with my dad at the top of our staircase, my mom had just came through the front door.”

“And…you just so happened to fall backwards.” Ewan adds, like he’s heard the story all the same before, but he hasn’t. It’s so self-explanatory.

I resent the thought. “Yeah.”

I hear him swallow, and he goes back to picking at his nails, and when I look up at what he’s doing there’s blood around a couple of his cuticles.

“Do you…” He starts, lets out a sigh, “Do you remember where you hit your head?”

I frown to myself at that, and I shake my head, think back to the memory of my father as I feel around myself.

 _‘Here’,_ it says.

I can feel it deep in my gut, firmly lodged and persistent, where my fingers were currently resting was where the edge of the twelfth step cut into my memory and made me lose a number of years.

“Here.” I say, my voice barely audible, but Ewan still picks up on my voice like a dog. I speak a little louder, “Why are you asking?”

He hesitates, “I was thinking that…maybe if you…y’know, if you…” And stops.

“If I what?” I edge.

A worried expression washes over his face, but he pushes through it. “Maybe if you…try triggering the… _point_ …where you hit your head…you might…remember _more_.”

“If he does that there’s a high chance he’ll trigger a coma as well.” Nathan appears leant against the counter then, arms folded across his chest. “I thought you were cleverer than that, Ewan.”

Ewan blinks twice, briefly puts his hands up in defence. “Christ, it was just a suggestion.” He glances back at me, “But…imagine if that _were_ to work.”

“But how much of a working chance is within that?” I counter.

“Listen I’m not a fucking psychologist but to me it’s worth a shot,” he pauses, “It’s up to you if you really want to pull that stunt—“

“There are other ways of remembering things without hurting yourself.” Nathan has seated himself down beside me now, and he’s looking at Ewan with a fixated glower. It’s sarcastic but unintentional, and seeing him like this makes me want laugh, but I end up sniggering.

Ewan smiles at the boy, trying not to laugh himself. “Good thing you’re here to keep me in line, kid.” A beat, “But it would be a good way to commit suicide, right? If you were to die.”

“Remembering everything you forgot as a child before you leave?” I say.

“Yeah.”

_He’s fucking crazy._

“Maybe.”

_But that’s okay._


	56. Chapter 56

_Sam_

_~_

One of my worst flaws had to be my indecisiveness. I kept questioning myself. I couldn’t help it.

Maybe he _did_ care back then.

He just never showed it.

“Do you think he cared?” I whisper, my cheeks still damp.

“He was ready for the responsibility.” Nathan answers from the other side of the bed.

_What if you’ve been lying this whole time to me?_

“He gave us away.” I add.

“Yeah.”

There’s hesitation in his voice. But it’s the kind that knows something I don’t, like he’s willing to tell me what it is but he doesn’t plan to, he doesn’t know if he should plan to tell me.

“You sound unsure.” I say, turning my head to the side. We’re not touching. We’re both apart in the bed now.

“Sam.” He whispers.

“Yeah?”

“Promise me you won’t get angry.”

_Shit._

“I promise.”

_Course you’re gonna get mad. You’ve lost it many times before._

Nathan inhales.

“It was definitely you back then. I remember you running off one night and not coming back. The police couldn’t find you. Dad came back and lifted me then. And…”

I want to sleep it all off. “And what?”

He stops. “He…wasn’t nice…anymore…”

I shut my eyes. “Just go to sleep.”

“That woman wasn’t my foster mother.” He’s suddenly wanting to gush it all out, “We met outside this diner and she asked why I was alone and I said I ran away and we made this deal,” _So you lied_ , “She’d done a lot of bad things, she and her boyfriend, they used me as a cover,” _So you lied_ , “And then it got really unhealthy,” _So you lied_ , “When I was old enough they both did things to me, y’know?”

_So you lied._

“That’s when I…started to make my own money and stuff.”

_So you lied._

“I had a plan, y’know.”

_Hm._

“I was gonna make enough money so I could run away again.”

_Yeah._

“And then you turned up.”

_I did._

“I was gonna ask if you’d pay me. But when I had a good look at your face the familiarity settled in.”

_Really?_

“And I knew we’d met before.”

_You lied._

“I knew so much about you. You had no idea who I was.”

_You lied._

“I remembered your face. You still looked the same.”

You lied.

You lied about everything.

 

When you knew we shared the same blood.

_And you never thought to tell me._

You wanting to know your past was a lie too.

_I went there for myself._

You knew that.

You fucking turned it all around.

You remember everything.

_And you know I don’t._

 

* * *

 

_“Hey, Sam.”_

“Hi.”

_“Something wrong?”_

“Do you remember when it started raining and we stopped at the side of the road to take a break?”

_“…What about it?”_

“Do you remember what you asked me in the motel, regarding Nathan and I.”

Ewan doesn’t respond over the phone. The line goes dead for a moment.

“You asked if I wanted to have sex with him,” I say, answering my own question, “Why were you so concerned?”

_“You really like pushing it, don’t you.”_

“Pushing what?”

_“You’re so fucking naive sometimes, seriously.”_

“Are you jealous?”

_“What?—no, what the fuck? Sam, that—That was just out of interest, nothing else.”_

I bite my lip, and for some reason I get the foreign urge to provoke him by softening my voice. “You promise?”

 _“Yeah.”_ He doesn’t take the bait.

I swallow.

“Do I turn you on?”

I can hear him breathe for a second, and he sighs and the line goes dead for real.

_“No. You don’t.”_

I text him thirty seconds later.

_Me: Liar._

 

* * *

 

“…This is what he gave you?”

There’s uncertainty in Nathan’s voice the moment I hand him the the address Father Duffy had given to me. He’s looking at it as if it’s a scam of some sort.

“Do you remember Father Duffy?” I ask him, and he blinks, shrugs.

“You do.” I answer for him.

“I’m sorry I lied to you.”

“Well…forget it,” I say, while reluctantly sending a text to Ewan. “It doesn’t matter anymore,” _I think we should meet somewhere before we follow the address._ “Yeah, so what, _you lied_ —we can’t change that now. Forget it, okay?”

_I can’t stay like this forever._

As in, _I can’t stay mad at him._

I keep forgetting there’s an age difference, there’s a good seven years between us; he’s twelve years old for Christ’s sake, and I’d be turning twenty soon. The balance feels awkward, but not in a bad way that it’s too distracting, it just feels… _weird_. It’s like I’m conversing with a sixteen year old. But I’m not.

“…Is Ewan coming?” Nathan questions, a little meekly.

“Yeah,” I send the text. “We’ll meet him at the north end of town.”

 


	57. Chapter 57

_Sam_

_~_

**_> Earlier today / unread messages from EWAN / 4:09am  > DELETE?_ **

_Ewan: Guess what?????_

_Ewan: I have WEEEEEEEEEEEEEED_

_Ewan: We’re gon have some joints k_

_Ewan: Nathan can be our watchman_

_Ewan: Or he can try one too_

_Ewan: if u let him haha_

_Ewan: I haven’t smoked in awhile and I want to relive the experience with youuu_

_Ewan: Angsty teen_

_Ewan: When r u turning 20???_

_Ewan: Hey_

_Ewan: Sam_

_Ewan: I need to tell you something_

_Ewan: It’s important_

_Ewan: It’s not stupid I promise_

_Ewan: Are you there?_

_Ewan: Sam??_

_Ewan: Sam_

_Ewan: …_

_Ewan: I need to tell you something_

_Ewan: Just don’t get mad ok??_

_Ewan: ???_

_Ewan: shit, man_

_Ewan: I just_

_Ewan: Y’know what?_

_Ewan: Nevermind_

_Never mind._

You always hesitate in situations like these.

Why is that?

_Ewan: It’s not like my opinion matters_

_Ewan: it’s not like it affects us_

_Ewan: it’s not like it changes everything_

_Ewan: But I’m not sure anymore_

Neither am I.

 

***

 

Sometimes it’s best if you just let things happen, even if they aren’t good things. You’ll always be the victim if you’re not the one doing it. You’ll always be on the receiving end.

You’ll seem innocent.

Mostly.

“I have come so fucking prepared.”

“What did you take?”

“I didn’t take anything.”

“Liar.”

“I’m not lying!”

We were convinced the moment Ewan staggered and suddenly got a nosebleed that he had taken the ‘wrong pill from the bag’—It was probably weed.

“Can you drive?” I ask him, hand brushing his shoulder, and I grasp his arm when he leans back. He nods a few times.

“Yeah, course. Man, how’d you think I got here?”

“He’s okay.” Nathan says, already assuming, too quick.

Ewan rolls his eyes back, purses his lips inwards and nods his head, “Yep. Fine. I’m cool. Great. Fucking fantastic. Should we go?”

It doesn’t take long for us to figure out the trail through the city, following the address…albeit it’s only an address and doesn’t have differentiating arrows pointing us in the right directions, so, quite frankly, it felt as if we were trekking circles for at least half an hour.

We decided to pull over for a few minutes.

“Maybe…we’re just not following it right.” Nathan voices the suggestion as if it hasn’t been thought out before, and it annoys me because he clearly knows that, and he’s trying to make petty conversation for what?

“I can tell you now I’ve never came across that.” Ewan responds, cigarette between lips as he leans to the flame shielded by one hand. “The area that place is in—I’ve heard people don’t live there anymore.”

“Who’d you hear that from?” I say. He looks at me like I’m stupid, but I ignore his expression. “I thought you were a professional loner.”

Nathan smiles at that, cheekily, and Ewan scoffs.

“I _am_ a professional loner,” The eldest pauses, takes in a drag. “Some former inmate of mine used to rob estates like that.”

“You’ve been in prison?”

“Kiddie-jail, maybe.”

“How’d you manage that?”

He seems hesitant at my question and he doesn’t answer.

“To be lifted by the police?” Nathan interjects, and glances in my direction. “We’ve made friends with a borderline criminal.”

Ewan hums. “Shut it, kid.”

“So you’re saying no one lives there now?” I try to revert the conversation back to where we were meant to be going to, and Ewan seems to completely forget about it until I give him a hard look.

“The address? Well, I could be wrong,” he answers. “But nobody has moved up there in a long time, and there hasn’t been a sale sign tagged anywhere, believe me.”

I unfold the note and breathe in. “That makes it easier for us.”

“How?”

“To break in.”

 


	58. Chapter 58

_Sam_

_~_

“Are you _sure_ this place is empty?”  
  
Night had fallen by the time we pulled up to the correct house, and the first thing my eyes settled upon was the heavy padlock that was snaked around the opening of the car gates, and the antique authenticity that laid behind the bars. It was more than just house; by it’s looks it had to be mansion, it was fucking _huge_ —which meant that this was going to take even longer.

“It should be.” I say in response to Nathan.

“Relax, last time I checked this place was dormant as fuck.” Ewan responds.

I feel Nathan’s fingers clutch at my stomach, and he utters, “That’s deep sleep.”

“It’s a nicer way of saying the people who used to live here are long dead.” The older man gives a sarcastic smirk, “Just checking if any of us still have a sensitive bone in our bodies.”

“Not in this life we don’t.” I breathe out.

We drive round to the back gate that lead back down to the main road, where it was out-skirted with trees and softly-lit street lamps, Ewan the first to suggest hiking ourselves over the three metre cobbled wall.

“I can’t climb that.” Nathan says, his head reeling upwards, scanning the height of the wall. “And we could get hurt by the fencing.”

And he was right. Set upon the sanded stone ran a series of lacquered-black metal spikes put to ward off birds.

“We can climb over those, kid.” Ewan is already slipping his fingers into the slim crevices of the cobbled stone, pulling himself upwards.

I turn to Nathan, “I’ll take your rucksack.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s heavy.”

“No it isn’t.”

“It’ll be easier for me to pull you up. Without extra weight.”

He gives me a look that makes me want to laugh, but I don’t, because he’s being deadly serious and I wouldn’t want to piss him off.

I can’t help myself but say, “You’re cute when you’re stubborn.” _You seem like your real age when you do this._

He rolls his eyes when he looks up at me, the angle of his hair sweeping across his brow, and he has to jerk his head a little to get it out of his view.

“You’re hot when you’re angry.” He replies quite bluntly, and shock hits me when Ewan calls out from the top of the wall.

“What did he say?” He almost shouts the words, teasingly, he’s heard our conversation but he wants to push it even further because I’m sure he finds it pretty fucking entertaining to watch me get all flustered.

Nathan sucks on his bottom lip when I look down at him. He pushes his rucksack to my chest.

“Nothing.” I call back, and I receive a low chuckle from him.

“You sure?”

“Very.”

He laughs.

I pull on Nathan’s rucksack and try to follow Ewan’s footing and handling, the stone feeling foreign against my skin; I’ve always hiked myself up buildings, there’s bigger hold within the architecture which made climbing a heck of a lot easier, there were no bitty slits and crevices—some of my fingers would have gotten stuck in them, and my soles slipped a couple of times against the grainy surface.

“Oh shit,” Automatically the curse slips from my mouth because it’s the only word I can really relate to when I grab onto the metal fencing for support, and I don’t realise it’s loose as fuck when Ewan crawls over and helps me up.

“ _Christ,_ ” he says, fingers digging into the denim of my jacket, and I roll over onto my back when he helps me heave myself up onto the wall. I’m still clinging to the fencing. “You’re a lot lighter than you look.”

“Is that meant to be a compliment?” I grunt.

He makes a face at that. “It’s a fact. Let’s call it an indirect compliment.” He slowly stands up then, using his arms as a balance, and climbs over the fencing; careful not to catch himself on any of the spikes.

I peer over the edge to see Nathan still stood, waiting patiently.

“Are you able to climb a little?” I ask him, and he nods and begins to slip his fingers into any free gaps. When he’s about halfway I reach out one arm to him whilst using my other to hold on to the fencing, Ewan still behind.

“Jump,” I say, and I feel his weight add on to my own in an instant. I grit my teeth when I try to pull him up, and he feels my struggle and grabs onto the overlooking edge of the wall which thank God relieves me a little.

“Did that hurt?” He asks me.

“No.”

“He’s lying.” Ewan interjects and I have an underlying urge to knock him over the edge.

“I’m not lying.” I snap back.

I know he’s grinning right now. “Sure you aren’t.” And he drops into the back of the garden, boots thudding against the lengthy grass. _Asshole_.

I feel something I lift my head to see the mansion. Maybe achievement. It felt like that. It wasn’t anything bad. I think it’s some sort of release.

“You can get down alright?” I say, and Nathan nods as I let myself slip from the wall, worn soles hitting earth, and he shortly follows after.

“That wasn’t so bad.” I add, for no reason. Maybe I thought it was a good idea to start up a stupid conversation.

But he replies anyway.

“You should know that you can be really fucking boring sometimes.”

Because, _newsflash!_ He’s actually a little brat.

 

* * *

 

“We need to find a way in.”

“No shit.”

“We make the perfect team don’t ya think?”

“We really don’t.”

Nathan had tried the front door with no luck (of course it was going to be locked) and had peered in through the keyhole to see a darkened polished marbled floor; it was covered with a fine sheen of dust that was faintly visible, thanks to the weak moonlight that shone through the clouded windows.

“Did any of us think to bring any flashlights?” I hear Ewan’s voice travel halfway across the front lawn, past the metre-high cobbled garden walls, and I turn my head to see him at the other end of the development, and on instinct I shush him as loud as possible.

I can see him frown at that, but he gets the message, and he whisper-shouts instead. “ _Flashlights?_ ”

Out of nowhere I feel a sharp tug at the bag on my back, and Nathan is stood beside me. “I packed three.”

I wasn’t surprised, “Where’d you lift them from?”

“I didn’t steal them.”

When I glance down at him he’s smiling, and he’s lying, at the same time. He’s thinking too. Don’t know why though.

“Uh-huh.” I respond, and we begin to walk through the grass, the night dew catching at our ankles. “Sure. Someone as cute as you wouldn’t have to steal shit,” I pause and chuckle a little, at the thought and how true it was, “Because you’d just be given it.”

 


	59. Chapter 59

_Sam_

_~_

“…Children used to live…here,” Nathan had said that with a much gentler voice, like he was in midst of remembering something but he wasn’t sure of what, and his words faded into his thoughts, making the tonality of them incoherent from start to finish. I couldn’t figure out what he was feeling.

And his expression was downcast when he passed me, and I had asked him, “Could it have been us?” And he had turned and looked me in the eye, “No.”

And what is _that_ meant to say?

That this is the wrong place?

_Or has it hit a nerve with you?_

_Whatever it is you can tell me._

_But you don’t want to._

And I know why.

I’m not stupid.

_Never have been._

_I’ve never been allowed to be stupid._

Because I have been born with great difficulty.

_Because I have been born with great responsibility._

Because I’ve been born into an adult from day one.

_And so have you._

 

 

* * *

 

 

We had gotten into the house by picking the lock on one of the top windows, Nathan taking a quick photo of the city from where we were stood, being able to bring in the front garden and entrance along with the trees that surrounded the estate.

From then on and up until now we were stood in what we assumed was the attic, because neither us could properly breathe, and we could see the dust glitter in the air around us, like saltwater aimlessly floating in an empty void of black ocean, when we turned on the flashlights Nathan had brought. It all felt so nostalgic. It felt good in a way. Everything felt so calm. In the far distance, somewhere just outside of the city, we could hear cars’ engines and their tires rolling and rolling against the many roads they ran upon. It added greatly to the sense we were all feeling, or so I thought. I wasn’t sure what Ewan or Nathan were thinking.

“Okay, uh—can we just—have a group huddle for a sec?”

Ewan, again, is the first to initiate some form of conversation, “What exactly are we looking for?”

I open my mouth to speak, because I’m the one who (apparently) has the majority of the information—but I’ve never been here. I’m not the one who remembers all of this. This house is unfamiliar from the inside out. Nothing has been triggered to make me remember or feel anything.

I blink, a little confused. I look at Nathan. Ewan too. We both look at him like he’s our last resort.

“Mom used to…theorise a lot. That…was like her job, y’know?” _God love him, I feel so bad, he’s looking at me like I’m meant to remember and relate to what he’s saying, but he knows I don’t and there’s no use of me fucking trying._

I nod.

“She used to do her work in these…” He’s trying to find the words, “Um…they were like—fuck, I don’t know—I’m sure they were like, these off-white leather-bounded books? I think. Something close to that.”

Ewan nods a few times, licks his lips, “Right okay, easy enough.”

I turn my head in his direction. “What do you mean _easy enough_?”

He blinks. “Well—we can look around, right? Can’t be that hard. Just a couple of books, research papers and stuff.” He looks at Nathan, “Right mate?”

I answer back, maybe a little too sarcastic. “There’s probably a good three floors to this fucking house so we’re gonna be doing more than just looking, _mate_.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

An hour later nobody could come up against my prediction because I was right. There _were_ three floors to the house. And we were doing _more_ than just looking.

_It felt like we were doing nothing._

_Because we hadn’t fucking found anything._

The attic was filled with hiking and skiing essentials, stuff people only wanted to see once or twice a year and that was it, everything might as well have been packed up for Christmas, and it definitely had to be cleaned out—after twenty minutes or so, after pulling out several boxes, Ewan had started to have a series of uncontrollable sneezes due to the dust.

Throughout that time I had briefly wondered of what Nathan had seen or found to make him realise that children had at some point lived and vacated here. I wanted to ask him how he knew that his— _our_ mother theorised in off-white leather journals. There was more, a heck of a lot more, but I didn’t want to confront the questions all at once. There’s already been so much.

“The books had her initials on them.” Nathan speaks when we are sifting ourselves through what I assume is the second floor, a room full of clutter, a slightly cleaner duplicate of the roof-space, and everything inside my head freezes momentarily as I’m trying to process what he has just said.

_‘The books had her initials on them.’_

I shake my head when it hits me.

_God, the trust really has been bashed up._

I carry on like I haven’t noticed, to not put him on the spot and to save him the guilt for not telling me sooner, that he knew who our mother was, that he knew all this time, all from the very beginning, because I can’t project all of that on to some inexperienced kid whose already been through Hell and back.

“What…were her initials?” I ask quietly, and he looks over his shoulder and then turns round and shines his flashlight directly at me, so I have to squint.

He hesitates before answering. We can’t see our expressions in the dark. “C and M.”

I suck my bottom lip and hum in agreement. I don’t bother hiding it. I’d have to tell him at some point. Either that he’d notice and the guilt would appear on him way to visibly.

“You could have told me before.” I say, touching one of his shoulder blades as a comfort. He nods like he’s been thinking about it for too long.

“I know. I’m sorry. I-I was going to.” He swallows, and his voice quietens slightly. “I got scared.”

“From now on you tell me everything,” I respond, spread my fingers over his shoulder, feel the bone through his hoodie, and he looks up at me with glassy eyes as I continue, “and so will I.”

He hums in agreement. But somewhere I know he isn’t listening. He’s thinking of something else. Like there’s more.

_Like there isn’t enough._

 


	60. Chapter 60

_Sam_  
  
_~_

_‘I got scared.’_

Course you did.

“Y’ever sometimes know there’s something else there?” We’re in a child’s cluttered bedroom when Ewan speaks, Nathan somewhere else down the darkened corridor. There’s so many boxes. It’s like the house has several other settlements living inside it, not just it’s own belongings.

“Something else?” I repeat, the yellowness of the flashlight I’m holding floods across the floor, skims the tips of my shoes as I move it across the clutter. There’s less dust in here.

“Yeah.” Ewan answers from the other side of the room.

“I don’t follow.”

“Something else—as in, some _one_.”

I turn around to where he is, and I see he’s already standing and looking right at me. I can tell he’s serious about whatever it is he’s talking about, or whatever he’s trying reference or explain, I don’t know. It’s just very obvious; I shine my flashlight in his face.

As he blinks his brows furrow inwards into a soft frown, and when I don’t respond, his iconic grin appears. “You’ve never seen a ghost?”

“You think we’re all destined to see one before turning twenty?” I say dryly, and he lets out a chuckle. His eyes are sharp and defined in the mellow light. He reminds me of a hostile cat to some extent.

“No.”

Then I hear him swallow.

“Well—maybe.”

This time I’m the one to blink and frown at him.

“Do you ever feel energy, I mean.” He continues with a question, but it doesn’t sound like one.

“Like a force?” I near the desk that’s pushed against one wall. I turn my head round to glance at him, and he’s looking at the door. I turn back to scanning over the boxes and carry on. “I’m not sure. I don’t think I have. I think if I did I would automatically know. Is it mental or physical? Because if—“ I stop.

Because when I turn around to look again he’s not there.

I blink.

I roll my eyes.

_Weirdo._

 

* * *

 

The next time I initiate dialogue with Nathan is when I happen to see his little fingers idly dance across the face of an antique globe that, still in perfect condition, must have had years worth of touches and spins.

I catch a glimpse of his face in that instant, when I go to speak to him. His eyes are soft and he looks like he’s lost in thought, blinking as often as he does and needs. He looks so solitary and childishly mature, lodged in what we all assumed was a fucking museum of sorts.

“So where are we going?” I say to him, and his head jerks at the sound of my voice. I honestly don’t know why I asked that question. I liked the idea of travel. I could get myself into a lot of crime and make money along the way.

Maybe he thought the same.

I think I ask him because it’s something we all long for in one way or another, all of us. Every being. Just, _being_.

In different places.

He seems confused. “Huh?”

“Well if you could go anywhere in the world, where would you pick?” I rephrase, and he looks me up and down for a moment.

“Anywhere?”

“Anywhere.”

He spins the globe on its tilted axis, and it’s continents and other worlds merge in speed, until he jabs out his little index finger on to somewhere random, and it halts under his touch.

“India.”

“Heard of the Taj Mahal?” I say,

“Hm. It’s a mausoleum.”

He spins the globe again.

“Soviet Union.”

“We’ll go to Moscow. Might be a tad difficult to get in though. Always wanted to see the red square though.”

When I glance at him he’s smiling. I’m not sure why. Maybe it was the way I spoke.

“Look at you,” I’m caught off guard by Ewan bumping shoulders with me, and I stumble a little at the effect. “Knowing all your geography. Did the nuns take you on kiddie-trips?”

When I ignore him he lets out a low gradual laugh.

“England.” Nathan announces.

“Windsor Castle,” I say, but I don’t think they hear me speak, because Ewan bounds in to the conversation, and for a second I’m glad that Nathan hadn’t heard me— _or maybe he did, fuck I don’t know if he did_ —because something clicked in that moment when he said the next country was England.

Windsor Castle.

_Windsor Castle._

I’m trying to decipher what makes the place sound so familiar when Ewan interrupts my thought.

“I was born there.” He says, and Nathan’s eyes flick up in an instant.

“Really?”

“Yup. But my parents were Irish. My mother moved over to England with her sister when she was pregnant,” He pauses, and chuckles kind of sadly and dryly. “She wasn’t able to get a termination,” He inhales. “I used to think I had killed her.”

 

* * *

 

When Nathan is crawling his way through an air vent to unlock the other side of a door I decide to talk to Ewan. To get to know him better. To know more than I already know. Because I can tell he has always been a very unjustified person, and I want to be the one…to justify him, I guess. Just, because. I didn’t know the reason why. Yet. At least.

“You think you killed your mother,” I say the words too randomly, maybe too abruptly, but it didn’t matter, because the way I said it didn’t sound one bit sentimental, so I messily try to neutralise it. “I-I didn’t mean it like that.”

“That’s okay.” He replies too contently, nodding. He’s not looking at me. “She was pretty young. She was three years younger than you when she died.”

_That’s sixteen._

“Jesus Christ.” I breathe out.

He laughs nervously and sends me a glance. He shuffles a little, scuffing his boots against the wooden floor. “Yep.”

“You said she…had a sister?” I add.

“We don’t talk.”

And I regret it.

“Can we talk about something else?”

He looks at me properly when he says that, and for a second or two I feel really intimidated by him, but I shouldn’t be, because somewhere I know it’s him that feels intimidated—by me.

But I don’t push it. Because I know what it feels like to be a little lost. “Yeah. Sure.”

I wasn’t planning on talking about anything else. I don’t think he even wanted to talk in the first place, come to think of it. We endured a five second moment of awkwardness and I couldn’t even handle that, and I was about to talk again—but in that instant the locked door we were stood at gave a click, and the brass knob jolted once and turned.

And Nathan opened the door. “I found a key.”


End file.
